


Work Even to the End

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Grandpa Plisetsky - Freeform, Lilia - Freeform, M/M, Mila - Freeform, Slow Burn, Viktor/Yuuri - Freeform, background relationships and characters, georgi - Freeform, leo/seung-gil, phichit/guang hong, yakov - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 62,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11096406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: After the GPF, Yuri and Otabek grow their relationship, though Yuri doesn't entirely know if he's doing it right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before the full experience of Welcome to the Madness exploded online, so Beka's role in Yuri's exhibition at the GPF is lessened.

Yuri spends the night between competition and the exhibition sitting in his hotel room, staring at the gold medal in his hand. He'd done it. He'd fucking done. First time out in senior division, and he'd won it all.

He'd texted Otabek earlier to see if he'd wanted to hang out, but Otabek had begged off, saying he was exhausted. Yuri believed him, but he also worried that maybe Otabek was down because of how close his loss was to JJ's bronze. He hadn't asked or sent any sort of comfort text, just told Otabek to sleep well and tossed his phone on the bed next to him. 

He's done it. He's won gold.

And tomorrow at the exhibition, he's going to blow the fucking doors off.

*

Because of his gold medal status, Yuri skates last. He watches from the locker room as JJ performs his skate, and rolls his eyes when he steps up next to the rink to watch Katsudon and sees Viktor take the ice with him. "Oh my god, they're the fucking worst."

"I think it's sweet," Otabek says. He's wearing jeans and a sweater since he's not up for the exhibition. "It's also pretty daring, putting together a pair skate."

"I'll show them fucking daring," Yuri mutters.

Otabek gives Yuri a small smile. "Yeah, you will."

Yuri feels pleased at the recognition, though he bites back saying so. He'd changed up his routine at the last minute with Otabek's help. Yuri had picked a new outfit, and Otabek had picked the music. Yuri had spent all night on choreography; Otabek had offered to keep him company, but Yuri had said no, not wanting anyone to see it until he was sure it was right. Yakov and Lilia had both given long-suffering sighs when Yuri had shown up for exhibition dressed in his blazer, tank, and leather trousers, but neither of them could argue. It was an exhibition, not for points. He could do what he damn well wanted. "How's my eye makeup?" He asks Otabek as the crowd starts to cheer--very loudly--for Viktor and Katsudon. 

Otabek considers it, then leans forward, thumbs up. "Close your eyes." He presses his thumbs to the edges of Yuri's lids and pushes outwards.

Yuri checks the smudging in the reflection of his sunglasses and grins. "Perfect. Thanks."

"Show them how it's done," Otabek says.

*

The cheers for Yuuri and Viktor are definitely louder and longer than for JJ and even in general, but the cheers for Yuri as he bends and slides across the ice, his shirt riding up to expose his chest, are even louder and longer than that, and he hears it turn to screaming when he drops to the ice at the end of his routine and the lights go out.

Yeah, he's got this.

When he comes off the ice, Otabek is by the wall, grinning. "That was great."

"Did you shoot finger guns at me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Yuri feels his grin grow even wider. "Right. Liar."

*

Yuri's surrounded by well-wishers the moment he steps into the banquet room. His short program was phenomenal. His free program was magnificent. His exhibition was so interesting and raw and where did he get the inspiration?

"Was it your frustration with losing Viktor as a coach?" someone asks. 

They're a sponsor, so Yuri bites back an immediate response of 'fuck you.' "No," he says, then turns on his heel and walks away as fast as he can. He can see Yakov stepping in to give him some time to cool down and feels his fists clench. He'll get called childish in the press tomorrow; people will wonder if he has the maturity to keep up with his debut. 

He finds a quiet corner and breathes deep, making himself count to five on each inhale and exhale. 

"That looked uncomfortable."

Yuri turns and glares at Otabek. "What does that mean?"

Otabek looks unaffected. "I mean it looked uncomfortable. I heard what that guy said, and it was rude."

"Yeah?" Yuri slowly unclenches his fists and shakes out his hands.

"Your exhibition was so completely you. It was obvious."

Yuri waits for a joke or a backhanded compliment. Otabek leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, and watches the room. "Thanks," Yuri says after a pause that should be too long, but Otabek seems comfortable.

"Sure," Otabek replies. He pushes himself off the wall and gestures to the buffet. "Food?"

"Yeah."

*  
They're halfway through eating when Viktor loudly and drunkenly proclaims he needs to reimburse Yuuri for his show the previous year.

"Oh, god," Yuri hisses, barely dodging out of the way as Viktor picks up Yuuri and spins him around. He heads towards the far side of the room and finds Otabek against the wall eating a slice of cake. "Save me," he says. 

"Phone," Otabek replies.

"Why?" Yuri asks. He'd been planning to stare at it until the police came and dragged Viktor away for public indecency. 

"My number," Otabek replies. He holds his own phone out to Yuri. "You can put yours in mine. That way, we'll have them, and it'll be easier to stay in touch."

That's not what Yuri meant, but it's a good idea, Yuri realizes as he looks up at Otabek. They're friends. He hands over his phone and takes Otabek's. Otabek's is in a slim black case with a line of records decorating the back. Yuri enters his contact information. "I'm giving you all my social media stuff, too. I know you don't use that stuff much, but maybe you'll get bored sometime."

"Thanks," Otabek replies. "I'll put mine in too, even though you're right."

"Maybe I'll inspire you." Yuri means it to come out sarcastic, but it comes out amused instead. Otabek huffs a laugh, and they hand their phones back to each other. 

"I'm going to be busy in the off-season. I have to re-up my sponsorships, and my coach says there are a few new offers because I placed fourth."

"You should have gotten bronze and all of JJ's sponsors," Yuri replies, tossing an annoyed look in JJ's direction. He and his fiancee are in a corner, talking to each other, seeming not to notice the continued chaos in the middle of the room. Chris--of all people--is keeping Viktor restrained from removing his pants. Yuri is pretty sure they just slipped into an alternate universe.

"This has stopped being entertaining," Otabek says, following Yuri's gaze. "Want to watch Netflix in my room? I'm rewatching all the Marvel films."

"Which one are you up to?"

"I haven't started yet. I can't decide if the Hulk films count or where they fall in the timeline."

Yuri scoffs. "The second one does. You can see it in the background of Iron Man 2. There's a whole tumblr post about it."

"I don't have a tumblr."

"You should. Bet you could find awesome bike stuff." They step on the elevator, and Yuri unknots his tie. He smiles when he sees Otabek doing the same. "There's a shitton of cat stuff, and sometimes I look at other things."

"As long as there's cat stuff," Otabek replies, and Yuri feels his smile widening.

They get off on Otabek's floor, and Yuri follows him to his room. It looks just like Yuri's except that it's neater. Otabek is already packed to leave the next day. He removes his suit jacket and tie and tucks them into his suitcase. Yuri throws his own onto the chair in the corner of the room.

"Room service?" Otabek asks. "My treat."

Yuri feels himself flush. "You don't have to do that."

"The Hero of Kazakhstan requests the honor of buying the Ice Tiger of Russia junk food to celebrate the season."

"I have Nationals in like three weeks."

"Plenty of time to work off the calories."

Yuri jams his hands in his pockets and takes a deep breath. Otabek is his friend, he reminds himself. Friends do this for each other. "Yeah," he agrees after a moment. "Sure."

"You can buy it next year after I win gold," Otabek says.

That makes Yuri laugh. "You wish."

Otabek gives him a quirk of a smile and hands him a menu to choose from.

Yuri looks it over. "Think we can get them to send up booze?"

"The room is in coach's name, and I'm of age, so probably," Otabek replies. "What are you thinking?"

"Just champagne or something. I know I like it."

"I like champagne, too. I was also going to get churros." 

"Wanna get the tarta de santiago, too?" Yuri glances at Otabek. "I can pay for it."

"I can afford it," Otabek says.

Yuri feels like he should apologize. He hates the feeling. It always makes his stomach twist and his body feel like all his muscles are shortening. "It's not that I think you can't," he says. "I mean, I looked you up and stuff…" He shrugs when he can't figure out how to word the rest of it.

Otabek looks thoughtful for a moment. "I looked you up, too," he says slowly. "It must be difficult sometimes to enjoy skating when it's how you keep your family financially stable."

Yuri blinks quickly because he is definitely not tearing up. "I love skating," he says.

"Me, too," Otabek says and picks up the room phone. 

Yuri takes controlled deep breaths while Otabek puts in their order. He reaches down and takes off his shoes, then throws himself onto the bed next to Otabek after Otabek hands up the phone. "The timeline goes _Iron Man_ , then _Hulk_ , then _Iron Man 2_ ," he says when Otabek glances at him. 

Otabek stands up and grabs his laptop. He places it on the bed, then undoes his dress shirt, pulling it off to reveal an undershirt. "I've got spare pajama bottoms if you want to change," he offers.

Yuri's out of his dress shirt and trousers immediately, catching the dark green and black striped pajama bottoms Otabek tosses him. "Thanks," he says.

"Sure," Otabek says, pulling on a pair of brown checked bottoms. "Want to watch cat videos until the food gets here?"

"Do you mind?" Yuri asks. "I mean, if you have other stuff you wanna watch, that's fine."

Otabek considers it, and Yuri thinks it's nice to have a friend who considers options. Every person he knows seems to randomly decide everything. It's annoying as hell. "I've been watching a lot of bad music videos lately. We could go back and forth."

"That sounds fun."

Otabek sits next to Yuri and sets his laptop so it's resting in both their laps. "Gold medalists first," he says after he opens YouTube.

"Shut up," Yuri mutters as he searches for his favorite videos.

They get through three cat montages and two-and-a-half ridiculous music videos before the food arrives. Otabek takes the cart from the busboy at the door and wheels it into the room himself. 

Yuri's phone pings, and he looks at it.

 **Yakov:** Where the hell have you gotten to?

Yuri rolls his eyes.

 **Yuri:** I'm hanging with Altin in his room. I didn't need my eyes further burned out by whatever those two assholes were doing at the banquet.

 **Yakov:** Check out is at eleven. Everyone is to meet in the lobby at 10:30.

 **Yuri:** Fine. Okay.

 **Yakov:** Good. How stupid are you being right now?

Yuri rolls his eyes again. 

"Everything okay?" Otabek asks as he puts a full champagne flute on the table next to Yuri's side of the bed.

"Yakov being Yakov," Yuri replies. "It's nothing."

**Yuri:** I'm not. We got a couple of desserts and some champagne. We're gonna watch movies. 

It takes Yakov much longer to reply than Yuri is used to. When Yakov decides texting is the only answer, he's quick on the keyboard. 

**Yakov:** You were all over that gram with each other. Are you friends?

 **Yuri:** INSTAGRAM. God, you're old. And yeah. So what?

 **Yakov:** He seems serious and skated well. Don't get arrested.

 **Yuri:** Ugh. Fuck off already. I'll see you in the lobby tomorrow.

Yuri tosses his phone down the bed and picks up his champagne flute. 

Otabek holds up his own champagne flute and gives Yuri the fuller smile Yuri saw at the restaurant a few days ago. "Congratulations," he says.

Yuri wants to make a face, but Otabek is being sincere, and he finds he can't. "You, too," he says.

Otabek clinks their glasses together, takes a drink, then pulls up Netflix. He searches for a few seconds, then curses under his breath. "Fuck. Spanish Netflix doesn't have any of the Marvel movies."

Yuri sighs gustily around a bite of churro. "I hate that. Why can't the contracts be for all the versions?"

"It's so dumb," Otabek agrees. He gives Yuri a look. "Anything else you want to watch?"

Yuri shrugs. "We could just go back to cat videos."

"Sure." 

They spend an hour watching cat videos of various quality before Yuri, starting to get tipsy, steals the laptop and types 'Otabek Altin' into the search bar.

"What are you doing?" Otabek asks. He doesn't try to stop Yuri, just sounds quietly amused as he concentrates on opening the second bottle. Otabek presses his thumbs under the champagne cork and flinches when it pops. Yuri would make fun of him, but he flinches, too.

Yuri goes back to the search results as Otabek fills their glasses. "Yes!" he shouts after a few seconds. "I knew it!"

"What?" Otabek leans over to see the computer. "Fan vid? Of me?"

"I knew there had to be one," Yuri replies as he clicks the video to start it. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna be a dick about this. We can watch one of mine after."

" _One_ of them?"

"Those goddamn Angels are super productive. Yakov sometimes gives me hell by telling me I should work as hard as they do."

"Ouch," Otabek replies. He grimaces as the video starts. "Oh, god," he says when a picture of his first junior tournament flashes on the screen. "Oh, no."

"Oh my god," Yuri breathes out as the next photo shows an even younger Otabek, then the following one showing a recent shot. "They dug deep for this one."

"I hope my sister never finds out about this. She'd play it on repeat and turn it into a presentation for her debate team."

"What's your sister's number?"

"Shut up, Plisetsky."

Yuri laughs as the video continues. "You think this is bad? There's an entire video of me that includes glitter everywhere."

"Do you look yourself up?"

"God, no. Mila the hag likes to mess with me by forcing me to watch them."

"The redhead, right? She got silver in women's."

"Yup."

"Her axles are sharp."

"She helped me improve mine, but don't ever tell her I said that."

"Sure," Otabek agrees. The video, mercifully, comes to a sudden end. "How many videos are there of you?" he asks as Yuri types his own name into the search bar.

"I don't kn--holy fucking shit." Yuri stares at the number of search results. He pulls away from the computer like it might bite him. "Mila never said, so I thought it was only some."

Otabek shakes his head at the results. "Your fans are insane."

"You saw them. This is barely anything. At least these people stay the fuck away from me." Yuri gulps half his champagne as he pushes the laptop back towards Otabek. "Here, choose one."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. Just, like, don't start making them yourself."

Otabek laughs, quiet. "You should do one and see if anyone realizes it's you. Use pics you've never posted anywhere."

Yuri's eyes light up. "Wow, that's...that sounds hilarious."

"And use a song you know you don't like."

"Yebat-kobat, are you secretly evil? Because that would be amazing."

Otabek shrugs, picking a video at random. "I don't think so. My sister and I just prank each other a lot."

"You have to help me with it," Yuri says, grabbing Otabek's arm. "Tell me you'll help me."

"Okay," Otabek agrees. "Sounds fun."

They watch more videos and finish the champagne, and they fall asleep next to each other. Otabek's alarm goes off the next morning, and Yuri grumbles as he turns away from the sound. He ends up with his nose pressed to Otabek's chest. "Ow."

"Good morning," Otabek mumbles, unconcerned. He yawns and rubs a hand through his hair as he sits up. Yuri shifts away from him and only opens his eyes once Otabek turns off the alarm. "My flight is at noon."

"Three," Yuri replies. He yawns and checks the clock. "It's only eight. Why are you up so early?"

"Breakfast," Otabek says. "Do you want to order room service again or go to the restaurant and see who's hungover?"

"Restaurant, but I need to change," Yuri replies.

"We can stop by your room first."

Yuri gives Otabek back his pajama bottoms and slips on his tuxedo trousers. He leads Otabek two floors up to his own room and quickly changes into jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt, and his leopard print hoodie. He shoves his hair out of his face and rolls his eyes when it falls back in front of his eyes. "Nu Naher." He searches up a hair tie and tries to get his hair under control, but it's not cooperating.

"Here," Otabek says, taking the hair tie from Yuri before he snaps it. "I can braid it." Yuri gives him a nod, and Otabek makes quick work of a French braid, securing it at the base of Yuri's skull.

"Not bad," Yuri says. "How do you know how to do that? Lilia keeps showing me, but I can't do it."

"My sister," Otabek says with a shrug. "She would practice on her doll, and she would make me practice on her."

"Your sister's got you trained." 

Otabek smiles, just a touch. "Yes, but she's also my biggest fan."

"Lucky," Yuri mutters. "My fans are all crazy."

"I didn't say she wasn't crazy."

Yuri laughs as they walk into the hotel restaurant. He's about to retort when he hears his name from across the room. "Ugh. I was hoping he'd be too hungover to be here."

"Yurio!" Viktor repeats, waving frantically, as though he is unnoticeable in a restaurant full of skaters. Yuri takes silent pleasure in the way JJ winces at the volume. Good.

"I see you, you idiot," Yuri replies as he walks over and flops into one of the extra chairs at the table. Otabek sits in the other. Katsudon has a mouth full of toast, and his oatmeal is swimming in sugar and milk. "Already getting out of shape for off-season, Piggy?"

Katsudon finishes his bite of toast and beams at Yuri. "Not quite. I've still got Nationals."

"We had desserts last night," Otabek says. Yuri cuts him a look. Otabek shrugs. "No one here will believe you if you try and say you stayed on your nutrition plan last night."

Yuri sighs, knowing it's true. "We had a couple desserts and some champagne."

"Champagne?" Katsudon asks, looking concerned.

"Yes, _champagne_. Some of us can hold our liquor."

"I did just fine," Viktor says as he sips his coffee. 

Before Yuri can explain exactly how untrue that is, Katsudon laughs. "Vitya, you did not." 

Yuri kind of hates that the way Viktor smiles at Katsudon makes him feel happy for them. "Luckily, Otabek and I left before you defiled the _entire_ table."

"Oh, it was only half of it," VIktor replies, waving it away. "Chris took care of the other half."

"Kill me," Yuri says to Otabek. 

"Only if I can take home your medal."

"Go fuck yourself."

A server comes over and takes their order, pausing slightly when Yuri demands coffee. "Are you--"

"He's sure," Katsudon says before Yuri can call her a hag. Yuri isn't sure what to do about Katsudon backing him. 

"He looks a little young."

"He's a world class athlete. He'll survive," Katsudon replies. The server finally nods and walks away. Katsudon realizes everyone is staring at him. He blushes. "What?"

"You're so nice to help Yurio," Viktor says, looking even more besotted than usual. 

Yuri doesn't answer, but he only glares mildly at Katsudon when Katsudon looks at him. 

"I had servers who thought I was too young for coffee, too. It was annoying," Katsudon explains, ducking his chin like he's embarrassed. "And, really, when you win a gold medal, you can have whatever you want to drink for breakfast."

"Well, then, next year, you'll have a long list of options," Viktor says.

"You are both disgusting," Yuri says. He looks at Otabek, who is watching the interaction and looking--as usual--unaffected. "We should have ordered room service."

"I'll remember that next time," Otabek says. He holds up his phone, and Yuri sees the camera is set to selfie mode. "Look like a winner."

Yuri sticks out his tongue while Otabek snaps a picture. He watches Otabek put it on Instagram.

 **otabek-altin:** Post-#GFP breakfast with #goldmedalist @yuri-plisetsky. He's too young for coffee, but he's a rebel and going to drink it anyway. 

"You dick," Yuri mutters, but he's smiling a little. 

"What about your Nationals, Otabek?" Katsudon asks after Otabek pockets his phone. "They were this week, weren't they?"

"Yes. I considered trying to do both, but it wasn't logistically possible. The GPF gives me a better sense of my real competition level in the wider field, so I chose it."

Yuri thinks about that as Katsudon and Otabek discuss the details of making that kind of decision. Otabek could have skipped the GPF, and they wouldn't have met. Something tugs hard in his chest, and he rubs his hand against his sternum to try and stop it. 

"Any plans for the off-season?" Katsudon asks as the server comes back with coffee for Otabek and Yuri.

"Sponsorships and maybe a vacation," Otabek says. "I'm thinking about doing a trip on my bike."

"Alone?" Viktor asks.

"Maybe. I might take my sister."

"What about you?" Katsudon asks Yuri.

"Plan to destroy you next season."

He beams. "I'll be in Hatsetsu for a few weeks, and then I'll be joining you in Russia."

"I can't wait," Viktor says, reaching for Katsudon's hand.

"Murder me," Yuri says to Otabek. "I'm going to have to watch this on an unending loop."

"You'll get used to it, I'm sure," Otabek says, unconcerned. He glances at his phone. "Your Angels like the photo I posted."

Yuri thumps his head on the table. "Oh, god, they're going to infect you."

"I promise not to know you by your smell."

Yuri can't help but laugh.

*

After breakfast, Yuri goes back to his room, throws his things into his duffel, and goes to wait in the lobby. He sits in a stiff hotel armchair and reads a book on his phone. Twenty minutes after he's settled in, Mila tosses her duffel next to his and then drops down in front of his chair.

"I'm so proud of you," she says.

"Hag," he replies.

"Not just for the medal. I saw you made a friend. It's adorable."

" _Ugly_ hag."

Mila laughs and reaches out to ruffle his hair. Yuri dodges without thinking, but her hand doesn't land. "Did you finally figure out how to braid?"

"No. Otabek did it." Yuri rolls his eyes when Mila laughs and claps her hands. "Would you calm the fuck down?"

"Never," she says. She holds up her phone. "Let me get a picture."

"Why?"

"To make your Angels crazy on Instagram."

"Otabek beat you to it. He posted us at breakfast."

"But did he mention he did your hair?"

Yuri gives her a look. "No. Why would he? It's just a braid."

Mila shakes her head. "Boys," she mutters. She wiggles her phone, and Yuri grunts in annoyance but lets her get a picture. 

**Mila-la:** gold medal should go to @otabek-altin for keeping @yuri-plisetsky still long enough to get his hair under control. Lilia always has to threaten him. #boyswithbraids

Yuri makes sure he's the first comment.

 **@yuri-plisetsky:** News report: Hag jealous she has no one to do her hair.

Mila laughs when she reads it. 

*

 **Otabek:** I made it home. My sister elbowed me in the face trying to hug me.

 **Yuri:** Did you bruise?

Yuri howls with laughter when Otabek sends a selfie. He has a purple bruise darkening on his cheek. There's a girl--undoubtedly Otabek's sister--standing next to him looking sheepish but not ashamed. 

**Yuri:** 8/10. Uneven coloring around the edges.

 **Otabek:** She says she'll do better next time.

 **Yuri:** What's her name?

 **Otabek:** Alina. 

*

The day after Yuri gets back to St. Petersburg, Yakov informs him he's going on the morning shows the next day. "They want to talk about your medal."

"They want to compare me to Viktor," Yuri replies. He's seen the headlines already. "Or ask me what I know about his comeback."

"You know nothing about his comeback," Yakov replies. "You only know that you beat his world record."

Yuri side eyes Yakov, but Yakov's face is as immovable as ever. "How much longer am I going to be in his shadow?"

Yakov stares out across the ice. "With him coming back, I don't know," he answers after a moment. "But I know you'll get out from under it. Especially if you medal at Nationals."

For all their battles, this is why Yuri has Yakov coach him. Yakov doesn't sugarcoat and doesn't pretend like Yuri isn't battling against a still-living legend. "I'm supposed to visit my grandpa directly after Nationals. I promised to try a stay a few weeks. If I take a medal, what then?"

"I will handle the interviews, then. You will be enjoying rest after a successful season. Nothing about your skating or performance will noticeably change to warrant you taking the time to do those shows."

Yuri sighs in relief as he pushes away from the wall and does a lazy spread eagle. He wonders if there's someplace online to watch Kazakhstan morning shows. He wonders how many Otabek is having to do.

"No quads today," Yakov says, cutting through Yuri's thoughts. "You need to take a rest from them."

"I can do them just fine!"

"And you'll do them just fine tomorrow. But for today, no quads."

Yuri does a loop around the rink and makes eye contact with Yakov before leaping into a quad toe and landing it flawlessly. 

Yakov crosses his arms and looks unimpressed. Yuri turns to skate backward so Yakov can't see him smile.

*

 **Yuri:** Morning shows are the worst.

 **Otabek:** I've never liked them. They always feel…

 **Yuri:** Pandering? Condescending? 

**Otabek:** Yes. 

*

 **Otabek:** Saw your interview from this morning. Congratulations on not punching anyone for comparing you to Viktor.

 **Yuri:** If I hear his name one more time when they're supposed to be talking about me, I'm going to break a table.

 **Otabek:** If it helps, they're getting a lot of mileage about my sister hitting me.

 **Yuri:** It helps a little. 

*

On the final day of Yuri's morning show duties, the female host brings up a picture of him riding away on Otabek's bike after he'd nearly been mauled by the Angels. "He came in fourth--"

"Just barely," Yuri says.

"And you're friends now?" the host asks. 

Yuri shrugs, feeling embarrassed but making certain it doesn't show on his face. "I guess."

"Well, it's not just anyone who will braid someone's hair," the host replies, and Mila's Instagram post comes up on the screen.

"He was good at it," Yuri says and feels relieved when the host follows up by asking about his plans for next season. 

*

 **Yuri:** People are really weird about you having braided my hair.

 **Otabek:** Maybe because I didn't have claw marks after?

 **Yuri:** Ha fucking ha. 

**Otabek:** Can I Skype you? 

Yuri checks the clock. It's eleven in the morning, making it two in the afternoon for Otabek. 

**Yuri:** You get the day off too because of the shows? Totally call.

 **Otabek:** Yeah, Coach said it'd just be easier to start fresh on Monday. I'll call in five.

 **Yuri:** Cool. 

Yuri logs into Skype on his laptop and leans back in his desk chair. He puts his feet on the desk and smiles when Potya jumps into his lap and curls up. "You are gonna hate me tomorrow when I have to put you in the carrier to go to Grandpa's," he says to her. She purrs when he strokes down her back.

Otabak calls almost exactly five minutes later. Yuri accepts the call and grins when he sees Otabek. "Hey."

"Hi." Otabek looks at the camera like he's trying to make eye contact. He looks down and seems to not know what to say. 

"Morning shows are so fucking terrible," Yuri says, hoping to break the ice.

Otabek laughs quietly and nods. "They are. They tried to get me to be part of a cooking segment."

"Do you cook?"

Otabek shrugs. "Sort of? But it's all training food, you know? Meal planning."

"Seven days of grilled fish and vegetables," Yuri says, and Otabek nods. "And then seven days of grilled chicken and vegetables."

Otabek looks away from the camera again, but he looks like he's composing himself. "Your hair," he says, "I'm sorry if my braiding it caused you trouble."

"What?!" Yuri barks a laugh. Potya wakes up, digs her claws into his upper thigh, and shifts position. He scratches behind her ears to apologize. "I don't care. I just don't see what's the big difference between wearing braids in competition and wearing them otherwise. It keeps the hair out of my face either way."

"Oh, good." Otabek smiles. "Alina was so excited to find out I'd done it. She gave me a 7 out of 10."

"Wow. She is _harsh_. I love her." 

Otabek's grin widens and softens at the same time. "Yeah. She's all grit. I'd call her in to say hi to you, but she's staying after school."

"Study session?" Yuri guesses.

"No. She's mad there's no secondary school debate team, so she's starting one."

Yuri grins. "Makes me think of you talking about Yakov's camp."

Otabek looks curious. "How so?"

"You said they moved you down to the novice class, but here you are, coming in third--"

"JJ came in third."

"I know what I said," Yuri replies. "Anyway, I mean, you didn't go into deep detail, but you not staying or coming back says Lilia and Yakov agreed you weren't right to coach, and here you are anyway. I don't mean you didn't train your ass off. I know you did. I mean, like…" Yuri waves his hands for a moment, waiting for the words. Otabek watches him, not pushing or judging, just looking curious. "Your sister's in secondary school so she's, what, thirteen?"

"Twelve."

"Wow. Okay. So, she's twelve and starting debate club. That takes a lot of work and stubbornness. So, I guess, knowing what I do of you so far, it seems like it runs in the family."

Otabek doesn't smile wider, but the way his whole face brightens that makes it seem like he has. "Thank you," Otabek says. "That's...thank you."

"Yeah," Yuri says with shrug. "I mean, I just noticed it is all." He feels embarrassed but proud and doesn't know what to do with the combination.

They talk of nothing important after that, just plans for the next few weeks and a second round of bemoaning morning shows. 

"I should go," Yuri says when he hears the front door open. "Sounds like Lilia's back."

"Sure," Otabek agrees. "Send my regards."

Yuri wants to mock his phrasing, but he's so sincere, he finds he can't. "I will."

"Yuri?"

"Yeah?"

"This was nice. I don't usually--I don't have friends I Skype with."

"Me neither," Yuri admits. "But if you wanna set up, like, a regular time or something, I could do that after I see my grandpa."

"I'll text you," Otabek says.

Yuri agrees. They say their goodbyes, and he disconnects the call.

*

Yuri--to no one's surprise--takes gold at Nationals. Otabek texts him congratulations when he watches the coverage the next day, and Yuri feels like he's won something extra. He doesn't have words for it, but it makes him smile.

*

 **Otabek:** What the hell is that?

 **Yuri:** That's what happens when I have to put Potya in her carrier.

 **Otabek:** It's okay. You can still skate if they have to amputate your arm because of infection.

 **Yuri:** At least it's not the arm I raise during jumps. 

**Otabek:** Silver linings everywhere.

*

Yuri hugs his grandpa tight around the waist when he meets him on the train platform. Potya, waking up from the mild sedative Yuri had snuck into her treats, gives an angry hiss at finding herself in her carrier. 

"How badly did she hurt you this time?" Grandpa asks as he reaches down for the carrier.

Yuri pushes up his hoodie sleeve to show the four long scratches down his inner forearm. "No worse than usual."

"I saw you on the television shows."

"Ugh. They _sucked_ , Grandpa."

"You were polite. I was proud of you."

Yuri rubs a hand on his cheek as he blushes. "Thank you."

"But I am glad it's over so I can simply have my Yurochka to visit," Grandpa says and puts his arm around Yuri's shoulders. "I have lamb stew and fresh bread at home. I thought I could sneak you a little lamb while you're here. Give you a break from all the chicken and fish."

Yuri presses into his side. "Sounds good. I'm starving."

*

Potya sprints from her carrier and dives under the couch the second Yuri lets her out. He leaves her to hate him and sits at the table in the kitchen so his grandpa can serve him lunch like he has since Yuri moved in with him when he was four. 

"This smells great, Grandpa." He watches his grandpa sit down. "How's your back?"

"It's fine, Yura."

Yuri narrows his eyes. "I got a big prize for winning gold. If you need--"

"It's _fine,_ Yura."

Yuri eats a heaping spoonful of stew so he doesn't press. He takes a bite of bread after that, and then tucks into his lunch properly, the taste and smells of everything egging on his appetite. 

They don't speak through the whole meal, but it's a comfortable silence. When Yuri finishes his soup by using the last of his bread to wipe the bowl clean, he looks up and sees his grandpa smile.

"It's good to see you," Grandpa says. "And to hear you worry about me."

Yuri swallows his last bite. "Your back really is okay?"

Grandpa shrugs as Yuri stands to clear the dishes. "I am an old man with an old back. This is how things go, Yura."

"But it's not worse? You said the doctors mentioned surgery again."

"It was a reminder that it is inevitable, not that it needs to happen right now."

"You're sure?" 

"Yes. If you like, I will call the doctor and have him tell you himself."

Yuri starts the water to wash the dishes and shakes his head. "No. I believe you."

Grandpa stands and brings the rest of the dishes. He places the soup pot into the fridge with its leftovers and wraps the bread in wax paper before putting it back in the bread box. He touches the top of Yuri's head like he might give him a blessing. "What is really bothering you, Yurochka?"

Yuri sighs and turns off the water. He washes both of the bowls before speaking. Grandpa stays near, stroking his hair. It reminds Yuri of when he was very young and couldn't sleep. Grandpa would stay up with him, simply sitting in the quiet and stroking his hair. "I've been thinking about how you didn't make it to Moscow, and I understand. You were ill. I wouldn't want you traveling like that. But you also didn't have anyone to help you."

"The whole village helped me. They brought me food and books and their company."

 _But they're all as old as you,_ Yuri wants to say, but he bites his tongue. The village used to have children and grandchildren. Yuri had playmates before he moved to St. Petersburg to train under Yakov. He was one of the first to leave, but he wasn't the last. Yuri notices, every time he's back, that the younger faces have all seemed to disappear between his visits. "I'm worried you'll need something, and I won't be here to help," he says after a long pause.

Grandpa sighs quietly and places his hand between Yuri's shoulder blades like he needs to anchor himself. "You are too young to worry about such things."

Yuri finishes the last of the dishes and wrings out the sponge. He turns to face his grandpa, ready to point out that he's not, that he's always worried about such things. His grandpa looks sad, the way he gets sometimes when the truth of Yuri's responsibility for the family weighs on him. He hates it, Yuri knows. Hates that his back betrayed him when he was still a middle-aged man and left Yuri to take care of them both. 

"I made a friend," Yuri says instead of continuing the conversation. "His name is Otabek. He came in fourth, but he should have come in third."

Grandpa chuckles quietly. "Are you saying that because he really deserved third or because that JJ got bronze?"

"Both?" Yuri replies, and he smiles when Grandpa's chuckle turns into a full-blown laugh. 

"I'll make tea, and you will tell me how you made a friend," Grandpa says, pushing lightly at Yuri's back.

Yuri walks into the living room and drops onto the couch, sighing happily when he sinks into it like he always has. Potya comes out from under the couch and eyes him before jumping up to lay on his chest. "No crate until we leave," Yuri says. "I promise."

Potya kneads his chest and starts to purr. 

Yuri looks around the living room and notices how it's changed. There are a few more books--there are always a few more books--and there's another picture of Yuri on the wall, this time a shot of him from the podium at the GPF. He stares at it for a moment, wondering how many more times he can win so Grandpa can have another photo for the wall.

"Here," Grandpa says, coming into the living room. He sets a cup of tea on the coffee table within Yuri's reach and then sits in his arm chair, holding his own tea in his hands. "Tell me about this Otabek. You so rarely make friends." It's said matter-of-fact, not sad or pitying, and Yuri reaches for his tea as he starts the story.

"It started badly. I was telling JJ anyone who wears their sunglasses on their head looks like an asshole, and then I turned around and…"

*

 **Yuri:** Grandpa says you sound like a fine young man.

 **Otabek:** Compliment?

 **Yuri:** Old man compliment, but yeah. I mean, he generally likes people, so I dunno.

 **Otabek:** I'll take it as a compliment. 

*

The three weeks with his grandpa pass quietly, as they generally do. Yuri gets up in the mornings and go to the tiny rink in the village to practice a few hours a day, but he's home by lunch. Sometimes, he and Grandpa go on walks. They shop on Saturdays, and Yuri says hello to approximately everyone who lives near his grandpa. He ends up helping Mrs. Vasileva down the lane to clear her garden of the last vegetables so she can prepare the plot for the harshest part of winter. And then he ends up preparing the plot himself because she is fierce and determined but also has a hunched back and walks like her feet hurt.

"Who helps her usually?" Yuri asks.

"We all help each other, like I've told you," Grandpa replies. They're eating dinner. It's three-quarters of the way through Yuri's visit, and he's getting antsy about leaving his grandfather alone again. "We've always helped each other, Yura. I'm sure you remember."

"I do," Yuri replies, and he doesn't know what else to say. He feels uneasy, all these elderly people with only each other to help them. "Someone should move here," he says. "A few people. They could take care of things so you all don't have to work so hard."

Grandpa chuckles. "We are Russian. We relish hard work."

 _The eyes of a soldier,_ Yuri thinks, remembering how Otabek described him. He wonders how long his eyes have been that way.

*

 **Otabek:** Oh god, it's happened.

 **Yuri:** ???? What? You okay?

 **Otabek:** Alina informs me I have fangirls.

 **Yuri:** Shut up. Seriously? I mean, there was that one vid we found.

 **Otabek:** She says they're organized, like yours. There's a group of them at her school. They have meetings every Tuesday.

 **Yuri:** This is fucking amazing. Is Alina in the club?

 **Otabek:** I would disown her. 

**Yuri:** Bullshit.

 **Otabek:** I would briefly disown her.

 **Yuri:** Skype? I've gotta see your face.

 **Otabek:** Yeah. I could use some advice about it.

Yuri opens Skype and leans back in bed. He can't help but laugh when he accepts the call from Otabek and sees his face. "You look like you're about to be shot."

Otabek has his head in his hands, but he's peeking through his fingers at Yuri. "They had a fight today. Alina could hear it three rooms down in the debate room. They were _yelling_ over what to call themselves."

Yuri swallows back a laugh, but it's hard. "Did they decide?"

"I don't know, and I don't want to know." Otabek shakes his head and drops his hands. He stares at the screen, like he's not really seeing anything. "What if they become crazy like yours?"

"They will," Yuri says. "They always fucking do. They're gonna learn your smell."

Otabek says a string of words in Kazakh that Yuri knows without asking are swears. This time, he can't stop the laugh. "It isn't funny!" Otabek yells.

"Of course it's fucking not!" Yuri yells in return. "But it's kinda nice not to be the only one who has crazy fans and hates them."

"Can they be not crazy? Is there a chance at all?"

Yuri thinks about it for a moment. "Katsudon has crazy ass fans, so no, it's not. But maybe yours will be like his, where there's a small group and they don't come out much."

Otabek shakes his head. "There are _chapters_ of them. Alina said she talked to one of the girls."

"Oh, chapters are bad." Yuri runs a hand through his hair and pulls a face. "How'd your sister manage to talk to one of them without getting screamed at about being related to you? The angels have screamed at my grandpa, for fuck's sake."

"What? Really?"

"At the Junior championship last year they surrounded him and started screeching about how lucky he was to get to spend so much time with me. I felt like shit because I don't really get that much time with him now."

"That's awful." Otabek looks thoughtful. "They don't know she's my sister. Altin isn't an unusual name, and my family keeps to themselves if they come to a competition. My rink mates know them, of course, but they respect their privacy."

"That's good, at least. I really, really hope they don't go full batshit and start doxing you."

"They do that?"

"Yeah. Not to me." Yuri pulls another face. "Yet." He watches the horror rise on Otabek's face. "If they show up when we're at a competition together, we'll fight them off. I owe you at least that for saving me in Barcelona."

That makes Otabek grin, just a little. "I hope it never comes to that."

"Yeah, me too. But at least you have Alina for recon. She can probably warn you if they seem to be pack hunting you."

Otabek shakes his head. "How is every other sentence you say terrifying?"

"Those assholes who call themselves my Angels started that shit when I was eleven. _Eleven_."

"Oh my god." Otabek's face has gone back to horrified, and Yuri can't quite tell, but he's fairly certain Otabek has paled. "I'm actually sort of lucky, then. At least no one cared who I was at eleven."

Yuri shrugs. "I guess. I don't know. It's all I knew, you know? At least I knew it was fucking weird."

"That's true." Otabek takes a deep breath and looks into the camera. He seems to be taking in everything behind Yuri. "That's not the same room from last time."

"I'm at Grandpa's for another two days," Yuri says. 

"Oh. I'm not cutting into your visit, am I? I wouldn't want to be interrupting."

"Nah. Grandpa went to the bookstore. We can hang out for awhile."

"Oh. Okay. Good."

Yuri changes the subject, and they talk until Grandpa comes home.

"Please tell him hello for me," Otabek says. He looks much calmer than when the call started, and Yuri feels proud about that.

"I will," he says, and they say their goodbyes.

*

 **Yuri:** Further war wounds from Potya the evil shithead because I had to get her in her carrier again.

 **Otabek:** How do those not scar?

 **Yuri:** I have no clue.

 **Otabek:** Have you tried wrapping her in a towel?

 **Yuri:** She was in one when this happened.

 **Otabek:** Have you tried pointing out that you're the Ice Tiger of Russia, not her?

 **Yuri:** Fuck you.


	2. Chapter 2

Yuri goes back to his training schedule two days after getting back to St. Petersburg. He ups his texting to Otabek, filling him in on Mila's latest horrible date (she has _so many_ horrible dates) and the fact that Georgi seems to have gotten over the worst of his super creepy break-up feelings.

**Otabek:** Too bad. It was a great performance.

**Yuri:** You didn't have to listen to him go on and on and ON for months and MONTHS about how heartbroken he was. I thought he was gonna boil a bunny.

**Otabek:** Huh?

**Yuri:** There's an old American movie where a woman boils a bunny because the dude she's fucking decides to break off the affair and go back to his wife. 

**Otabek:** How have you seen it?

**Yuri:** Georgi watched it for inspiration.

**Otabek:** Fuck. 

**Yuri:** RIGHT?!

The top of the second week of getting back into the groove, Yuri walks into the rink's locker room and stops short. Viktor is on the bench, carefully stretching his hamstrings, and Yuri is struck with a feeling of...he isn't sure. Something that feels warm but uncomfortable. Almost envy, maybe? Anger? 

"Yurio!" Viktor says when he sees him. He straightens from his stretch and holds out his arms like Yuri might actually run to him for a hug. "I'm back!"

"Practice started last week, you lazy fuck," Yuri replies. "And stop fucking calling me Yurio." 

"I have to call you something. My Yuuri is going to be here in a few days, and we have to differentiate between the two of you."

"Have you considered going back to Japan and retiring again?"

Viktor beams. "Oh, I can't wait to, but I also can't wait to skate, so here I am."

"Oh, my god, I hope you snap an ankle." Yuri walks over to his locker and slams it open as hard as he can. He sheds his hoodie and boots and scarf. His phone pings as he starts to stretch. He ignores it until his back and arms are probably stretched. Viktor has gone back to his own stretching, though Yuri catches him looking his way occasionally.

**Otabek:** They're calling themselves the OtaCubs. I need you to mercy kill me.

Yuri barks a laugh. 

"Good news?" Viktor asks, already smiling like he expects Yuri to share.

"None of your business," Yuri replies, placing his phone face down on the bench before going back to stretching.

*

Having Viktor back on the ice makes Yuri itch between his shoulderblades. They had never worked in side-by-side rinks before. Yuri's still used to working on the opposite side of the big room with the other juniors. But now Yuri is a full-fledged senior, and Viktor's just over a few feet. Yuri keeps nearly asking Viktor's opinions on his form, on the beginnings of his choreography for his short program. Viktor's energy is different than Yuri remembers it. Before, Viktor had seemed effortless and pristine, even though Yuri had seen him fall and fail plenty. But now, Viktor's energy rolls out like he's open to help anyone with anything.

"He's making me crazy," Yuri says to Yakov at break. "He's weird."

"He's always been weird," Yakov replies. "Your problem isn't Viktor."

Yuri curses under his breath and chugs water rather than try and explain.

*

**Yuri:** I am skyping you or I'm committing murder. Your call.

**Otabek:** How could I refuse such a polite request?

"It is the goddamn worst," Yuri says as soon as Otabek's face comes on the screen.

"What is?" Otabek asks. He's got his computer on the floor, his legs out in a horizontal split. He's leaned forward, chest nearly pressed to the floor, holding himself by the elbows.

"The pork bowl has arrived, and they spent the entire fucking practice _giggling_ , and Mila would _not_ shut up about how adorable they are and how fucking shitty her love life is."

"Sounds distracting."

"It is, but fuck it. I've skated with worse going on. But it's just…." Yuri pulls a face and watches Otabek shift into a plank. "How long can you hold that?"

"Record's six and a half minutes, but I only do one minute before bed."

Yuri glances at the clock. It's eight in St. Petersburg, making it eleven for Otabek. "Shit. Do I need to let you go? I don't wanna fuck up your sleep."

"No, I only started stretching. I've got forty minutes."

"You stretch for forty minutes before bed?"

"I don't do ballet for two hours a day."

"Three today. I was so pissed I fucked up my steps, and Lilia made me stay late."

"You must be exhausted."

"Eh." Yuri shrugs. Otabek adjusts into a vertical split. "She finds lots of reasons to keep me longer. I'm used to it."

"I would die. But tell me about Viktor and Katsuki. What bugs you about it if it's not the giggling?"

"It's not…" Yuri runs his fingers through his hair and scratches his scalp. "Mila thought I thought it was gross they were all handsy and stuff, but they weren't even that bad. It's just...ugh. Fuck Viktor."

"Fuck Viktor?"

"He did a whole fucking dramatic exit last year, and now he's back, and he's just--" Yuri waves his hands like it'll make sense. Otabek doesn't reply, just keeps watching him and pulls his front leg up so he's in a sitting lunge. The silence helps Yuri, though he can't explain how. Everyone else always tries to fill in his thoughts, but Otabek seems okay waiting. "He hasn't butted in and tried to tell me how to do anything, but it feels like he _would_ , like he's secretly waiting for me to ask for help."

"He choreographed for you last year. Maybe he has some ideas."

"No, it's not that. He's gone straight to Lilia with that."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yes? No? Fuck. Lilia hasn't yanked his intestines out his asshole, so she's clearly fine with it. I just…"

Otabek switches front legs for his lunges. "Do you talk to her about choreography on the same level? Does she listen to your ideas?"

"I don't bring it up a lot, but yeah. I want to get to a point I'm doing my own thing completely like I did at exhibition, and she says that's fine. But she's not going to let me make shitty decisions, so sometimes she tells me to fuck off, but other times, she listens."

"Is it that Viktor exists?" 

That makes Yuri laugh. "Always, but not like this." He bites his bottom lip and watches Otabek arrange himself into a Pike stretch. "Your back's curved."

"Thanks." Otabek corrects his form. 

"I think…" Yuri works his neck back and forth. "I don't see why I'm not included in conversations about his ideas. I mean, it's my fucking routine. I should get a say when he brings shit up to Lilia."

"Tell him so."

"He'll forget in like five seconds. He's fucking useless."

"So, tell him until he remembers. Or tell Katsuki to tell him."

Yuri considers that. "Tell Katsuki."

"I saw them working together. It seems like when Katsuki says something, Viktor commits it to memory."

"Use their disgusting love to get Viktor to not drop the ball on me again," Yuri mutters.

"Katsuki likes you. I'm sure he'll help."

"Yeah. That's a good idea. I…" Yuri scrunches up his nose. "Is this a friend thing?"

"What?" Otabek asks. 

"Me complaining and you giving me good advice?"

"That's how it works, right? You've been helpful with this whole weird thing about me having fans. Don't your rink mates listen when you're upset?"

Yuri sticks out his tongue. "God. No. Whenever I get pissed, they go on about how _cute_ I am and how they remember when I first started skating with them and was even tinier. It sucks." 

Otabek shrugs as he starts to stretch his sides. "I've never been treated like that. It sounds horrible."

"It fucking sucks." Yuri sighs deeply, then yawns much harder than he was expecting. "Shit. Maybe Lilia did kick my ass today."

Otabek smiles. "Well, tigers sleep sixteen hours a day usually."

"Fuck off," Yuri replies, but he's smiling back. It takes him a moment to gather himself for what he wants to say next. "Thanks. For listening and not talking about when I was tiny and cute."

"Sure."

Yuri swallows his next yawn. "I was gonna ask you about your fangirls, but I think I need to go to bed early."

"No further movement according to Alina, but I live in fear."

"You get used to it." Yuri laughs when Otabek gives him a flat look. "Night."

"Night."

*

"Pork bowl! Tell your dipshit boyfriend that if he's talking to my goddamn choreographer about my goddamn program, I need to be there. It's my fucking season on the line."

Yuuri looks up from lacing his skates and gives Yuri a serious look. "Has he not been including you? He absolutely should. I'll remind him." He goes back to lacing his skates.

Yuri, unsure what to do with the conversation over so quickly, hovers for a few seconds before turning and heading for the locker rooms to change.

At the mid-morning break, Viktor skates over to Yuri with a huge smile. "Yurio!"

"Not. My. Goddamn. Name."

"Yura," Viktor corrects, and Yuri stares at him a moment, not sure he's heard right. "I had an idea for your step sequence. I wanted to show you and Lilia."

"Don't you have your own routines to choreograph?" Yuri snaps. "And the piggy's?"

"It's just a bit of step sequence. It's no big deal. I rewatched your free program again last night and something clicked I thought you might like." Viktor turns and starts skating towards the wall. "Come on."

Yuri skates after without thinking. "What do you mean _rewatched_?!"

*

**Otabek:** I just remembered you have a tumblr. You weren't kidding about the cats.

**Yuri:** Why would I kid about cats?

**Otabek:** Fair point.

*

**Yuri:** Update your instagram. It's boring to see the same sunset for three weeks.

**Otabek:** I never know what to post. I'm not really a selfie person outside of competition.

**Yuri:** Give your phone to Alina. She'll handle it.

**Otabek:** I should draw up a contract that gives me final say on pictures. She'll just post me yawning otherwise.

**Yuri:** Have I mentioned your little sister sounds great?

*

"Oh!" Mila yelps at practice a few days later. "Yuri! Have you seen Otabek's instagram today?"

"It's five-thirty, you fucking hag. I haven't even opened my eyes."

"You should check it! Looks like he remembers he has a _very_ nice face."

Yuri hisses in Mila's general direction. She laughs and turns to show her phone to Georgi. He grunts, even less awake than Yuri. "Boys," she huffs and walks away.

"Fucking hate early practice," Georgi mutters, thumping his head against his locker. "She's always so awake."

"Stop talking," Yuri replies as he comes out of a stretch. He swallows a yawn as he walks to the ice. Viktor is already warming up, skating and spinning. Mila's on the ice as well. Yuuri is leaning against the half-wall on the floor side of the rink gripping a to-go cup like he's about to die.

"If Yakov sees you with caffeine, he'll kill you," Yuri says.

"If Yakov were my coach, I'd care," Yuuri replies.

Yuri almost laughs at the quietly murderous tone in Yuuri's voice. "Bring me a caramel macchiato next time, and I won't say anything."

Yuuri lifts another to-go cup that is sitting on the wall. He sets it in front of Yuri. "Skinny latte, extra shot. Viktor says you like them."

Yuri glances around.

"Talking with Lilia," Yuuri says, pointing across the rink. Yakov and Lilia are clearly in deep conversation, angled so no one can see their faces. 

Yuri takes a quick gulp of coffee and nearly sighs in relief at the way it wakes him up instantly. "Fuck me, Katsudon, I didn't think you had it in you."

Yuuri chuckles and chugs the rest of his coffee. "No one does. It's useful." He squeezes Yuri's shoulder before removing his skate guards and stepping on the ice.

Yuri watches him skate a few laps. Viktor meets him midway, and they skate side-by-side for a lap, talking quietly. Yuri wonders what they could possibly have to talk about. They live together. They train together. What could they possibly have to say?

"Is that coffee?" Georgi asks, seeming to materialize next to Yuri. "Where did you get coffee?"

"None of your business," Yuri replies. He downs a third of it in his next gulp, then passes it to Georgi. "You don't get any next time, but I'm feeling nice today."

Georgi doesn't reply, just ducks down so he can chug the rest of it without any chance of Yakov seeing him. 

*

Yuri checks Instagram at the mid-morning break. There's a new picture on Otabek's timeline. It's a soft focus shot of Otabek leaning back on a couch. He's stretched out in workout gear, one arm thrown over his head and the other draped across his stomach. He looks amused, though the smile on his face is small. 

**Otabek-altin:** handed the reins of his instagram to someone who knows what they're doing. #abouttime #heroofkazakhstan #secretphotographer #hemademesignacontract #seriously #whatadork #figureskating

Yuri likes the photo before bothering Mila until she shoves a protein bar at him to shut him up. "You could just pack your own." 

"Uh-huh," Yuri says as he shoves half the bar into his mouth.

*

Yuri spends the afternoon falling more than usual. He's working on a new jump sequence, and the transition from the quad to the triple is giving him trouble. When he falls a fourth time, he lets himself slide rather than immediately pick himself up. 

"Almost!" Viktor says, standing above Yuri and holding out his hand. 

"What do you want?" Yuri ignores Viktor's hand but doesn't try to get up himself. His left butt cheek is starting to throb from how he keeps falling on it.

"It will be beautiful when it's finished," Viktor replies. His hand is still out. "You'll get it soon."

A year ago, Yuri would have scowled and told Viktor that he'd get it _now_ , but the Viktor in front of him isn't the same Viktor from a year ago. "You've changed."

Viktor shrugs. "So I've heard."

Yuri takes Viktor's hand and heaves himself up. "You're still annoying, but you're not a complete asshole."

"Wonderful!" Viktor's grin widens. "Yuuri and I are going out for dinner after practice. You should come."

"Why?"

"Because we're paying."

"Okay. Fine."

*

"How's Otabek?" Viktor asks halfway through dinner. He has a huge bite of chicken in his mouth, and Yuri can't believe anyone finds him attractive.

"He's fine," Yuri answers. He shoves a huge bite of fish into his own mouth because he will not talk about this without making them work for it.

"How's your hip, Yuri?" Yuuri asks, glancing down like he can see Yuri's bruised hip and buttock through the table.

"Eh," Yuri replies. "Yakov told me to take tomorrow off, but it doesn't hurt that much."

"What did Lilia say?"

"She didn't say anything."

"That's approval from her, then, right?" Yuuri eats a piece of broccoli and makes a face like a man who is so very tired of broccoli. 

"Why are you eating diet food?" Yuri asks rather than agree that, yes, that is how Lilia shows she agrees with Yakov. "We're out, and like Viktor cares if you cheat now and again."

Yuuri looks at his skinless, baked chicken and vegetables. He's drinking water. "I get queasy sometimes if I practice hard and eat too much. This is nutritional and meets calorie requirements."

"And you're eating fish," Viktor points out.

"Fried fish," Yuri says. "Why would you be queasy? Why aren't you just starving?"

Yuuri looks embarrassed, and for a moment, Yuri considers telling him he doesn't have to answer the question. "I overthink after practice. Even this far out from competition, I'm certain I won't do something right."

"You'll be wonderful," Viktor says. "Both of you."

"Thank you," Yuuri replies, a blush rising on his cheeks. He looks at Yuri. "He says that every time I mention my anxiety, but it doesn't fix it, you know? I overthink because I overthink. Having something predictable and easy for dinner helps to calm me down."

"Predictable and easy," Yuri says, "that explains why you like Viktor so much."

Viktor spits his beer across the table and laughs for five minutes.

*

There's another new photo on Otabek's Instagram two days later. It's Otabek at the rink on a Saturday, mid spread eagle. He's wearing black leggings and a gray shirt. The comments erupt immediately with fawning girls, all tagging their comments with #otacubs.

**Yuri:** You've arrived.

**Otabek:** Please kick me in the throat with your skates on. 

**Yuri:** I'm not risking dulling my skates to kill you. Throw yourself on your own skates.

**Otabek:** I'm not disrespecting my skates like that. 

*

It's six in the evening Yuri's time when Otabek calls. Yuri's got a bowl of stew resting on his chest as he lies back on his bed with his laptop balanced on his stomach.

"If Lilia could see your posture, she'd yell at you," Otabek says when the call connects.

Yuri rolls his eyes. "You think she doesn't already know? We've agreed that as long as my door's closed, how I sit is not her concern."

Otabek grins at the corners of his mouth. "For someone so volatile, you have a gift for compromise."

"Whatever." Yuri waves a hand in Otabek's direction. "Come on. Tell me about your fangirls."

Otabek sighs deeply. "I thought they'd take longer to show up. I think trying to do more on Instagram brought them out."

"Shit. Maybe drop Instagram for a while?"

Otabek shakes his head. "The sponsors are all for it and pressing me for even more pictures, preferably while wearing gear I'm signed to model. I told them I'd wear whatever I want since social media wasn't part of my contracts--"

"Whoa. How'd you swing that?"

"You saw my social media before. I had some followers, but not a huge amount. I wasn't like you."

"Please, no one's like me. I was dumb enough to sign up for my own accounts the second I was legally allowed. There was no forethought in it."

"But you have sponsored posts. I've seen them. You tag them."

"My contracts require them, though. I wouldn't do them otherwise. My rule is I have to actually be wearing or using the thing for it to end up in a post. I don't just throw it on for a picture." Yuri takes a bite of stew and chews while Otabek looks like he's mentally taking notes. "Anything you're repping right now you're not actually big on?"

Otabek thinks for a moment. "There's a cologne. I don't know why I agreed to it."

"Ugh. I'll send you Viktor's number. He can explain how to handle cologne."

Otabek smiles, this one reaches across his whole face. "Great. Thank you."

"Yeah. Sure. I owed you anyway, for the help wtih Viktor."

"I'm not keeping count," Otabek replies.

"That's not…" Yuri takes a bite of stew. Otabek waits him out with the same quiet patience as before. "I didn't mean it like a scoreboard. Sorry. I'm shitty at this."

"It's fine. Let's just agree that neither of us owes the other a certain amount of helpful conversations, yeah?"

"Yeah. Sounds good."

*

**Yuri:** Otabek signed on for a cologne campaign. I gave him your number so you can tell him how to deal with that shit.

**Asshole:** I'm happy to help! Hopefully, he can just brood handsomely and be fine.

**Yuri:** Do not describe it like that. Have some class.

**Asshole:** Oh, Yura, it's like you don't know me at all.

*

The following Thursday, Yuri is practicing his jump combination one last time before afternoon break, and just as he's about to leap, a new junior skater steps on the ice and pushes himself into motion while looking at his iPod. He is directly in Yuri's landing path.

"Fuck!" Yuri screams as he desperately twists himself so as not to land on the kid. The kid darts away, but Yuri doesn't have enough time to untwist himself before he slams into the ice. 

For a moment, all he can hear is the rushing sound of his blood in his veins. In another moment, the pain comes through, building from the contact points of his hip and ribs and left arm, and pulsing through his body. 

"Your neck," Yakov says because of course he is right there, hands warm and steady on Yuri's back. 

"Fine," Yuri grits out, and he turns to prove it true. He'd saved himself from a possible head injury by cushioning with his left arm. "Is he okay?" 

"He's fine," Yakov replies, and Yuri can tell by his tone Yakov is ready to read the kid the riot act.

"It was an accident. He's new." Yuri groans as he flops himself onto his back. "Don't scream at him."

Yakov looks ready to scream at Yuri for telling him what to do. "Stay still," he says instead.

Yuri does and winces as Yakov prods him in all the places he landed. Everyone's stopped skating and gathered around. The junior skaters look terrified. The seniors look concerned to varying degrees. Yuuri, Yuri notices, looks the most concerned, and he has a fleeting thought that a big brother would look at him in the same way.

Then Yakov presses his fingers into Yuri's ribs, and Yuri curses a blue streak so bad even the seasoned junior skaters take a step back. Mila and Georgi applaud. 

"9.6," Mila says. "You repeated a word."

"A perfect 10," Georgi says, "because it definitely hurt that much."

"Breathe deep," Yakov says, ignoring them both. Yuri does so. His breath stutters when he breathes out again, but the pain doesn't spike. "Go home," Yakov orders. "Ice. Rest. Epsom salts. Lilia will look you over in the morning and decide if you come in."

Yuri wants to argue that he can get up and skate this instant, but when Viktor and Yuuri step forward to help him into a sitting position, the pain ricocheting through his body calls him a liar. "I need a ride," he says. 

"I can do it, if that's okay," Mila offers.

Yuri wants to say something mean to her, but his concentration is focused on getting to his feet. Yuuri and Viktor help him off the ice, and it's Viktor who stays behind and unlaces Yuri's skates. 

"Do exactly as Yakov says," Viktor tells him. "I know neither of us listen to him much, but you're not in juniors anymore. Your body doesn't heal as quickly, even though you're not yet sixteen. Be cautious in your recovery."

"Yeah, yeah," Yuri replies. He hisses when Viktor removes his skates because it jostles his ribs. He is struck, suddenly, with a sharp and real idea of his mortality as a skater. If he'd landed at a slightly different angle, he could have broken a leg or a hip or his back. He could have snapped his ankle or ruined a shoulder. 

"The best injuries you can come back from are the bruises," Viktor says like he knows Yuri's thoughts. "If it hurts more tomorrow, be honest about it. Broken ribs can take a little time to ache."

Broken ribs could put him out for weeks. Yuri tries not to think about it as Mila appears at his side carrying both of their duffels. She doesn't talk as she drives Yuri to Lilia's apartment. When they're parked outside, she gives Yuri a quick, careful hair ruffle and tells him to text if he gets bored. 

The ache in Yuri's ribs is too deep for him to be clever in his response, so he simply rolls his eyes. 

He shuffles towards the elevator and then down the hall to Lilia's apartment. He has three texts from Lilia instructing him on where to place his ice packs before he's in the door. "I fucking know," he mutters but only texts back 'ok.' 

He strips slowly, hissing when he sees the beginnings of the bruising. His hip and arm definitely took the brunt of it, but his ribs are already tinting purple. He grabs a stack of ice packs from the freezer and a smoothie from the fridge and settles on the couch, taking a huge dose of ibuprofen before he lays down. Potya jumps on the couch and licks at his fingers before settling next to his feet, purring like that will cure him. 

Yuri holds his phone out as far as he can in his right hand and snaps a picture of himself from the waist up. There's an ice pack under his left arm, his left shoulder, and two draped over his ribs. He posts it to Instagram.

**Yuri-plisetsky:** fuck this. #hardfall #bruises #goddamnkids 

Mila gets the first comment:

**Mila-la:** he's sore, not broken. No rending garments in the comments.

The next five comments are from Angels, capslocking their concern and making Yuri roll his eyes.

**Georgi:** wish i'd gotten the swearing on video.

**Yuri-plisetsky:** I'm not your fucking monkey

**K-Yuuri:** glad you made it home safe; rest up

**Yuri-plisetsky:** thank you, mom. I know.

There's another flurry of capslock responses from Angels.

**Otabek-altin:** Ouch. Looks rough. 

Yuri stares at Otabek's response for a few minutes before he replies with the middle finger emoji a dozen times.

**Otabek-altin:** Yeah, I figured it probably felt like that.

Yuri laughs, then groans when it makes his ribs hurt. Potya walks up the couch and curls up next to his head. Her purring helps Yuri drift off to sleep, and he wakes up an hour later, the ice packs warm, and the ache pushing through his whole body. There are three texts from Otabek.

**Otabek:** What happened?

**Otabek:** You didn't answer in ten minutes, so I texted Viktor. 

**Otabek:** His explanation was very dramatic, but he said six times you should be fine.

Yuri starts the bath water and dumps in the Epsom Salts. 

**Yuri:** Think it's just going to be bruising. Hurts like fucking hell. I haven't fallen like that in a long time.

**Otabek:** You've had to dodge a kid before?

**Yuri:** Ha ha fuck you

**Otabek:** Glad it's nothing serious. 

**Yuri:** Thanks.

He soaks in the tub for half an hour. Potya sits on the edge of the tub and watches him, occasionally dipping her paw in the water like she's making sure it's still warm enough. When Yuri pulls himself out of the tub, he gives a sigh of relief because it hurts less. He dries off and applies ointment to all the places he can reach. He lies back down on the couch, careful not to curl up, and reads a book until Lilia comes home.

"Up," she says. Yuri stands and immediately lifts his shirt so she can check his ribs. She presses carefully, and Yuri only winces a little. "They're fine for now, but it'll be different after you sleep on them all night."

"I know."

She inspects his arm and hip and then pushes him on the shoulder lightly. "Try to stretch, but only a little. I'll call out for dinner."

Yuri's tempted to harass her about that. Even in the off-season she keeps him to a carefully controlled diet if he's staying in for dinner. But he aches, and he knows she'll order his favorites, so he lies back on the couch and accepts the ice packs when she hands them over.

*

The next morning is bad. Yuri feels like every muscle on the left side of his body is fighting him, and it hurts like hell to breathe in deep.

"Come here," Lilia says the moment he steps out of his bedroom. She checks the range of motion of his left arm, and nods approvingly when he doesn't wince. "Good. That means you didn't rattle your joints." She has his carefully stretch his leg next, and when he gestures where it hurts, she feels around. "It's your muscle. That's fine."

Yuri flinches away when she goes for his ribs. "Come here," she says, more kindly than before, and in that moment, Yuri can picture her training the tiny dancers who come to her studio when they're four or five. He holds himself still as she feels around the edge of the purple and green bruise that's bloomed along his left side. When she moves closer to center, she holds out her free hand, and Yuri takes it, squeezing unabashedly when she hits a sore spot.

"Does it feel like it's moving?" she asks.

"Press it again," Yuri grits out, and he blows out a hard breath when she does. "No. It just hurts."

"Lift your arms. Stop when it hurts."

Yuri does so and stops, his arms stretched over his head but nowhere near his full extension. "I think it's the muscles," he says. "It doesn't feel sharp."

Lilia nods. "Good. That's good." She stands up straight and looks at him, considering. "Ice packs twice a day. Epsom salt baths every night. Tomorrow, if things feel a little better, you can use heat to relieve the pain. Ibuprofen as needed. Do as much as your flexibility routines as possible. No skating for a week."

"A _week_?!"

"I will not have you out there skating until I'm absolutely certain your ribs are in one piece. If they still hurt a week from now, you've broken something."

Yuri presses his mouth closed rather than argue. Viktor's advice to listen flashes through his mind. "What am I supposed to do for a week?"

"Relax," Lilia replies, and the half-smile she gives him tells him she finds it as funny to say as he thinks it is to hear it from her. "Make sure you move around every few hours so you don't stiffen up more. Go out for coffee. Visit the library. Buy more horrible printed things at that tacky shop you like."

Yuri rolls his eyes at that. "Fine. I get it."

Lilia presses a hand to the top of his head, and it reminds Yuri of how his grandfather had done the same. "I know it's difficult, but it's for the best. You'll win gold again, but you have to take care."

"Okay. I will." Yuri says, more snappishly than he means, but he already feels lazy from having to leave practice early the day before.

"Be calm," Lilia says. "It will help." She steps away and gathers her bag and keys, waving goodbye over her shoulder as she leaves for the rink.

Yuri looks around the apartment and feels trapped. 

**Yuri:** I'm out for a week. What the fuck do you do when you're out for a week?

Otabek doesn't answer right away, but Yuri doesn't expect him to. He won't break for lunch for another hour. Yuri makes himself breakfast and then settles on the couch with the ice packs again. He tries to think of things to do, but nothing that comes to mind sounds interesting. It used to be, if he was down with an injury, he'd catch up on school work, but he'd pushed himself the year before to complete all the requirements to be a high school graduate before his senior debut. Now, he's left with a list of things he enjoys doing, but none of them sound entertaining. 

His phone dings as he's putting the ice packs back in the freezer.

**Otabek:** I tend to remix if I'm injured.

**Yuri:** Remix?

**Otabek:** Yeah. 

Otabek sends a link, and Yuri taps it. It takes him to a music upload site, and Yuri blinks in confusion when he sees DJ Goldblade at the top of the site. The music starts to play, and it takes Yuri half the song to realize what he's hearing. It's a remix. By Otabek. Who is apparently a DJ.

**Yuri:** What the fuck. You made this???

**Otabek:** Yeah. What do you think?

**Yuri:** It doesn't sound like shit.

**Otabek:** Wow. 

Yuri grimaces and starts the song over. He listens to it intently this time, trying to come up with something useful.

Yuri: I like it. The way you mixed up the beat is interesting.

Otabek: Thanks.

**Yuri:** Wait. Did you mix the song for my exhibition?

**Otabek:** Yeah.

**Yuri:** FUCK. OTABEK. Why didn't you say so?

**Otabek:** I didn't want you to think you had to use it just because I'd mixed it. I'm still fairly new to the whole thing.

Yuri stares at that response and doesn't know what to say. The song had hit Yuri dead center when Otabek had pulled it up from a playlist he had. It was angry and fast and loud and the opposite of everything Yuri'd been skating that season. He doesn't' know how to put into words how much he loves that song.

**Otabek:** What do you do when you're not skating?

Yuri's so relieved for the out he lets out a giddy little laugh.

**Yuri:** I read a lot, and I play with Potya. I go shopping.

**Otabek:** None of that sounds interesting?

**Yuri:** I can't do any of those for a whole WEEK. I mean, I COULD, but it sounds so boring. 

**Otabek:** Hmmm. Learn a new hobby?

**Yuri:** Like what?

**Otabek:** No idea. 

**Yuri:** Thanks.

Otabek sends back a shrugging emoji, and Yuri can't help but smile. He stands in the kitchen for a few moments and figures even if he's not in the mood to read, going to the library wouldn't be a bad thing. It's huge, and he could burn a couple of hours just browsing. He gets dressed and pets Potya before he leaves the apartment. The library is twenty blocks away, and he walks them just to feel himself move. It's barely nine o'clock, and he feels like he hasn't moved all morning. He snaps a photo of the National Library from half a block away and puts it on Instagram.

**Yuri-plisetsky:** On rest for the week. Hope I can find something to keep me entertained. #library #readabook #offseason #bruisedtohell

**Mila-la:** our little scholar!!

**Yuri-plisetsky:** shut up hag

Otabek likes the picture but doesn't leave a comment. Yuri figures he's probably in the last few minutes of his lunch break. He turns his phone to vibrate and walks into the library. 

For a few minutes, he just stands in the foyer and takes in the feel of the place. He was eleven when the Angels created their hellish communities and he became the breadwinner for his Grandpa and himself. He wasn't the first kid under Yakov's care who had taken on the responsibilities of an adult or had a horde of ridiculous people screaming his name on the street, and Yakov had handled Yuri's spiked and worrisome stress levels like it was second nature. He had shoved Yuri in a cab, given directions to the driver, and then dragged Yuri into the library in Moscow. 

"The world expects everything from you, Yura. Those fans of yours, they'll think they own you, that you owe them because of their devotion to you that you did not ask for. There are things you can do to remind yourself that you owe only what you wish to give." Yakov had led him to the Young Adult section and pulled the first three Harry Potter books from the shelf. "Here. Start with these."

Yuri had held the books in his hands and stared at the covers. "Why these?"

"Because I think you and Harry Potter will have a lot in common."

Yuri has never told Yakov how right he was. He'd torn through the entire Harry Potter series in two months, and once he'd finished he'd gone back to the library, placed book seven on the counter, and asked the librarian what to read next. He'd been in love with books and libraries ever since, and he'd never mentioned it to anyone. The rest of the team knew he read, but not how quickly or at what level. He'd posted pictures of bookshops and libraries before, but always with the same flippant tone he'd just used. 

Yuri wonders, as he walks towards the shelves where hobby books are placed, if telling Otabek how much he loves books and libraries would be equal to Otabek sharing the fact that he remixes music and is clearly building a portfolio to be a DJ. He considers it as he peruses the shelves, immediately dismissing any hobby books that look like they require a lot of tools or being in one place for a long time. He's only off for a week. He needs something he can learn quickly and use when he's traveling. 

The knitting and crochet books are on the bottom shelf, and Yuri has to bite back a groan when he crouches down to see them. He shifts immediately so he's sitting with his legs tucked to one side, his right leg bearing the weight of his position. He's seen knitting and crocheting before. He'd seen his grandmother do both when he was small. She'd always had a ball of yarn in her purse for long waits at the post office or the bank or the grocery store. Yuri remembers watching her work and the way she could make him sit still by having him hold the yarn on his hands while she wound it. 

She had made him socks, he remembered. All different colors. The year before she'd died, one of his Christmas gifts had been knee socks worked in a pattern of kitten faces. He still has those socks. They live at the back of his drawer. He can't bear the thought of throwing them away. 

He flips through a few of the books and ends up picking one knitting and one crochet book. Getting up is as agonizing as sitting down, but he manages with a white knuckle grip on the shelves. An older woman halfway down the aisle gives him a sympathetic smile as she leans on her walker, the bag over its crossbar bulging with books. Yuri manages a return smile, then walks to the reference desk.

The librarian at the desk is scanning a pile of books that look brand new. She smiles when Yuri approaches. "How can I help you?"

Yuri places the two books side-by-side. "Which is easier to learn?" he asks. 

The librarian looks at the titles. "Well, it depends on the person. Some people take to knitting better, others to crochet."

"What's the difference? They both use needles, right?"

"No, knitting uses two needles, one in each hand. Crochet uses a single hook and sometimes other tools." The librarian gives Yuri a reassuring look. "If you'd like to try both, we do have a stock of needles, hooks, and yarns you can rent."

"Like checking out a book?"

"Yes. Well, except the yarn. We request a fifty ruble per skein or ask that you bring back a finished project that could be donated to someone in need. We always have a need for hats and scarves, and I'm sure both books have at least one pattern for each."

Yuri considers it. "And if I suck at both of them, I can just bring it all back?"

"Yes, but we keep the donation."

Yuri nods. "Okay. Where do I get the supplies?"

"Our notions rentals are on the other side of the checkout desk." The librarian points, and Yuri blinks in surprise at the sight of it. Behind the desk are shelves full of all sorts of household things. He sees sewing machines and vacuum cleaners and electric can openers. "I never noticed that before."

"It's new. Just opened two months ago."

"And anyone can check out any of it?"

"Yes." 

"Wow." Yuri picks up his two books, thanks the librarian, and walks over to the other desk. The librarian there lets him check out the books, three sets of knitting needles, three crochet hooks, and two balls of yarn. 

"You can choose any color from the basket," she says as she hauls a large laundry basket out from under the desk. "I can bookmark patterns in your books that would only take a single ball of yarn each."

"Thank you," Yuri says as he sorts through the basket. The yarn is all different colors, but they all have the same label. Yuri chooses a dark brown and a hot pink. The librarian finishes marking patterns and hands him the books, telling him to enjoy himself.  
Yuri's halfway back to the apartment when the ache in his body starts to worsen. He curses for a moment and leans against the wall of a building, considering if he should hail a cab or take a bus the rest of the way. He stares up at the sky and curses under his breath as he considers his options. He could likely make it all the way back, but at what cost? If there's something worse than the bruising waiting to show itself, aggravating it into existence isn't going to do him any good. 

"Oh! Yuri!" 

Yuri turns his head, surprised to see Yuuri jogging towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was coming to see if you wanted to have lunch. I tweaked my ankle this morning, so I only had a half-practice today."

"Why are you so far from my building?"

"I saw you from the bus," Yuuri gestures towards the bus that's pulling away from a stop half a block down. "I figured I could catch up with you now." He cocks his head when Yuri doesn't respond right away. "Are you okay? Are you sore?"

"Of course I'm fucking sore." Yuri pushes off from the wall and wobbles slightly as the pain increases. Yuuri touches his right arm, careful not to do anything that could knock him off-balance. 

"I could take your bag, if it would help."

"It's fine." Yuri wants to shove Yuuri away, but his hip feels like it's locking up. He breathes out in a gust and watches the way Yuuri tries to hide his concern. "I need a cab. I thought I could make it to the library and back, but apparently I can't."

"It happens," Yuuri replies. "And I probably shouldn't do ten blocks on my ankle, anyway."

Yuri would call him a liar, but he catches the slight limp when Yuuri turns to hail a cab and realizes he actually _is_ injured. "There's plenty to eat at Lilia's if you want to stay for lunch."

"Sure. Thank you." 

They get a cab, and Yuri gives the address. They sit in silence until they're at the building. Yuuri pays for the fare before Yuri can get to his wallet, and they end up in a heated but good-natured argument about who should have paid all the way up to the apartment. 

"Oh, wow," Yuuri says when Yuri lets him inside. "This is really beautiful."

"Yeah," Yuri replies, unimpressed. He's stayed at Lilia's so long the fanciness of the place means nothing to him, but he understands why Yuuri walks over to the picture window to take in the view and pauses to look at the art on the walls. "I'm going to run a bath," Yuri says. "Help yourself to whatever."

"Thank you."

Yuri starts the bath and comes back into the living room. Yuuri is at the counter cracking eggs into a bowl. "What are we having?" Yuri asks as he lowers himself into a kitchen chair and carefully removes his shoes.

"I thought omelettes, if that's okay with you. Spinach and cheese."

"Yeah. Sure." Yuri reaches back and removes his hair tie. He runs his fingers through his hair and scratches at his scalp.

"Your hair's really getting long."

"Just like Viktor, I know," Yuri says, the words coming out with venom.

Yuuri doesn't look surprised by his tone. "Not like Viktor at all, actually."

"Tell that to the press. They keep putting shots of us side by side like I'm his reincarnation or some shit."

"They must be blind, then. There's nothing about you that's anything like Viktor except maybe how graceful you both are. But lots of skaters are graceful."

Yuri watches Yuuri chop spinach and drop it into the bowl with the eggs. "Are you trying to make me feel better?"

"I'm being honest. Viktor is light on the ice. You beat it down. You're both beautiful to watch, but there's no similarity."

Yuri doesn't know what to say. He scratches his scalp again and stands up. "I have to soak," he says.

"I'll wait until you're out to start your omelette," Yuuri replies.

"Whatever," Yuri says as he walks to the bathroom. He shuts the bathroom door and undresses. He checks his bruising in the mirror. His left hip is deep purple, and the edges of the bruise end a few inches down his thigh. His left forearm and bicep are the same, but his elbow doesn't have any bruising. He prods the bruising on his ribs, and it hurts, but it doesn't feel worse than before. 

He steps into the tub and sighs at the heat of the water. It feels good today, rather than making the ache deeper. He runs his fingers through his hair and holds it out so he can study it. It is getting longer, and he doesn't know if he wants to cut it or not. He hates being compared to Viktor, and having his hair long will only make the comparisons worse. 

There's a soft scratch at the bathroom door, and Yuri turns his head. One of Potya's paws slides under the door, pats around, and retreats. "You're fine," he says. There's a meow and a more insistent scratch. "You're fine!" Yuri says a bit louder. 

"Do you want me to let her in?" Yuuri asks. "Or is there a toy somewhere I can use to distract her?"

"Let her in."

The door opens just enough for Potya to dart in, and then it closes. Yuri appreciates that Yuuri didn't try to check on him. He holds out his hand when Potya jumps on the edge of the tub. She licks the water from his fingers and settles in to watch him. "You're ridiculous," Yuri tells her. 

Potya purrs in response.

*

Yuri puts on loose sweats after his soak. When he walks into the living room, Yuuri gets up from the couch and goes into the kitchen to start his omelette. "I have to stretch."

"Okay," Yuuri replies.

Yuri slowly lowers into a vertical split. His hip twinges, but it mellows almost instantly. He breathes in and out, careful not to move too fast. He holds the position for two minutes, then leans forward to stretch his back. "Fuck," he mutters as his entire ribcage seems to seize at once.

"You need help?" Yuuri calls from the kitchen.

"No." Yuri makes himself hold the pose because it hurts, but it's not getting worse. He's gotten enough deep bruises to know when to push himself. He decides, as he straightens up, that bending backwards isn't going to do him any good right now, and he shifts to a horizontal split. He's shifting into a pike when Yuuri walks into the room with an omelette on a plate and a glass of milk in his other hand. He sets both on the coffee table, careful to find a coaster for the milk. 

"Do you need ibuprofen?"

"Yeah. It's in the bathroom."

"I'll find it."

Yuri tests out stretching his sides and stops almost immediately. His right side is fine, but he's definitely too tender on the left, still. He stands up and walks over to his lunch. Yuuri comes out of the bathroom and passes him the ibuprofen bottle. Yuri shakes out what he needs and gives it back. "I don't need a babysitter."

"That's not why I'm here." Yuuri sits on the floor and stretches out his legs. He flexes his ankle, and there's a brief flash of pain on his face. "I really just thought you might like some company. If I'm bothering you, I can leave."

Yuri eats two bites of his omelette before he answers. Yuuri pulls his legs in close and works his ankle back and forth carefully in his hands. "How hard did you land?"

"Not terribly, but the angle was just wrong enough." Yuuri stops moving his ankle and his whole body relaxes. "It didn't hurt to walk on it when I saw you."

"You were limping," Yuri says. 

"Was I?" Yuuri looks at his ankle again. "I didn't realize. Maybe I should ice it."

"There's ice packs in the freezer. Help yourself." Yuri finishes his omelette and his milk while Yuuri gets an ice pack and gets resettled on the floor. "You can sit on the couch if you want," Yuri tells him as he carries his dishes to the kitchen. 

"I'm okay, but thank you."

"Suit yourself." Yuri lays down the couch and gives a small, full body stretch. "Do I really skate so differently from Viktor?"

Yuuri doesn't answer right away. Yuri watches him fiddle with his ice pack. "You really do. You took "Agape" further than he ever could, I think."

"What." 

"Viktor thinks so, too. I think you're a big reason he's back this season."

"WHAT." 

Yuuri looks up from where he's been plucking at the carpet fibers. His face is open, his smile a little soft and surprised. "I...um. Maybe this isn't my place."

"Talk, piggy. What do you mean _I_ inspired Viktor? No one's ever inspired Viktor."

Yuuri tilts his head, clearly thinking. "He told me…" he makes a face and pulls out his phone. "Hold on. I just need to check something."

"TALK." 

"In a minute. I want to be sure it's okay."

Yuri snatches his own phone off the coffee table and flicks through his twitter without really reading anything. He opens his text conversation with Otabek.

**Yuri:** Fucking Katsudon is sitting here lying to my face.

**Yuri:** I'm gonna shove his head in the oven.

He doesn't expect Otabek to answer right away, but he stares at the screen until Yuuri clears his throat and draws his attention.

"I didn't mean to interrupt myself. I wanted to be sure Viktor was okay with me sharing something pretty personal with you."

"He grabbed your ass on the ice three times this week," Yuri replies. "What's so personal he's not shouting it from the middle of the city?"

Yuuri chuckles. "There's a personal level of Viktor I don't think a lot of people have gotten to see. I didn't want to break his trust by accident."

"I swear to god, if you don't start talking, I'm throwing you down the fucking stairs."

Yuuri adjusts his glasses. "Okay. Sorry. The thing is, for a long time, Viktor only used himself for his inspiration. It was always a very internal thing. But, when he choreographed for us, it changed his view. He told me that he'd always been a fan of mine, but it wasn't until he saw me skate one of his programs that he realized how inspirational other skaters could be."

"Ugh," Yuri groans. 

Yuuri shakes his head at Yuri's attitude. "They can be. Trust me."

"We are all well aware of your gross crush,'" Yuri replies. "Viktor will not shut up about how cute he finds it."

Yuuri drops his head into his hands. "God, I never should have told him." He's laughing, though. He lifts his head after a moment, and takes a deep breath. "At the GPF, when you pushed yourself so hard, I think something in his view changed fundamentally. I think he realized for the first time that inspiration could come from _every_ skater, not just the ones near his age."

Yuri stares at Yuuri for a long moment. "You're really saying I inspired Viktor?"

"I'm saying Viktor has said it to me repeatedly. We both broke his records, but you taking control over your program like you did, switching it around to destroy the rest of us for jumps, it was amazing. He can't wait to see your programs for this year. He keeps talking about how he figures you'll completely outdo him by the time you're 20. He's so excited."

"Excited."

"It's not even a strong enough word, really. Giddy, maybe?"

Yuri stares at Yuuri. "He's looking forward to me outdoing him? Bullshit."

Yuuri laughs again. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but Viktor is ridiculous. And, really, he's a realist deep down. He knows his records won't stand forever."

Yuri shakes his head. "This conversation is too weird. Get out of my house."

Yuuri takes the ice pack off his ankle and works it through a full range of motion. "I can go if you mean it."

Yuri presses his palms to his eyes. "Get. The Fuck. Out of my house."

"You definitely mean it." 

Yuri doesn't uncover his eyes until Yuuri gives him a quiet goodbye and the door clicks shut behind him. 

"What the fuck," Yuri says to the ceiling. 

**Yuri:** Katsudon is fucking insane. Skype me when you're done with practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love to hugealienpie, templemarker, and the-wordbutler for their constant support and cheering. And extra to hugealienpie for the hard scrub beta and templemarker for cleaning up all the ice skating stuff and final check.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, so much appreciation to HugeAlienPie and Templemarker for their beta work, and love to the_wordbutler for cheering me on as it got written.

"That's a huge compliment," Otabek says two hours later after Yuri recounts the afternoon's conversation. 

"It's insane!" Yuri yelps. He'd tried to calm down before Otabek called, but he couldn't stop replaying the conversation. "What kind of idiot looks forward to having his records broken? What the fuck?"

Otabek thinks for a moment, tapping his fork against a bowl of rice and vegetables. "I don't know. It doesn't sound like he's looking forward to his records being broken. It sounds like he's looking forward to _you_ breaking them."

Yuri is stunned into silence for a few seconds. "Wait. What?"

"It seems kind of obvious?" Otabek takes a bite of his food and waits for Yuri to say something. Yuri shakes his head to show he's got nothing. "I mean, I'm speaking from a completely different realm of experience, but I think I understand Viktor's sentiment. When I'm done skating, I want there to be skaters who can outdo me. I want to see skating keep evolving and growing. There's no one in my rink right now who I think can do it, but you," Otabek shrugs. "You've been ready to outdo Viktor for years. You've always skated like you're going to shatter the rest of us."

"I…" Yuri shakes his head again, still uncertain. "This is weird, though. It feels weird. It feels like Viktor wants to quit."

"How's he skating right now? Is he half-assing it?"

"No. I mean, he gets distracted sometimes because he's coaching Katsudon or because he wants to feel up Katsudon," Yuri makes a face, and Otabek chuckles. "But he's working as hard as any of us."

"How many seasons do you think he has left?"

Yuri considers it. "He's 28. He's never had a major injury. He sometimes tapes his knees for jump practice, but we all do that. Three seasons, maybe four? If we're talking perfect everything the whole time."

"Then I agree with Katsudon. He's being a realist. I'm sure he'll skate as hard as ever, but he can see the end of the line as well as you."

Yuri stares at Otabek for a moment. "Did you just call him Katsudon?"

Otabek pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. "Shit."

Yuri bursts out laughing. "Oh my god, this is amazing."

"Don't tell him!" Otabek looks genuinely worried. "I don't want him to think I'm being disrespectful."

"What?" Yuri sticks out his tongue. "Please. He won't care."

"He doesn't care if _you_ do it, but he doesn't know me. I only even talked to him a little bit in Barcelona. I don't want to presume intimacy."

"Dude, his best friend is Phichit. Pretty sure he won't care that you called him that privately to me after we've been friends for a couple months. I call him that all the time."

"Why? I don't know what it means, but it seems like you're bugging him."

"It means pork bowl. It's his favorite thing to eat, and when Viktor told him he was skating to 'Eros', he told him to picture his favorite thing, and he talked about being a sexy pork bowl."

Otabek nearly drops his food. "WHAT?!"

"How do you not know this?! Viktor was telling everyone!"

"I don't...I think it's pretty clear I'm not friends with everyone like you three are," Otabek looks into his bowl, stabbing harder than necessary at a piece of broccoli.

"What? I'm not…" Yuri stops before he says something that might be misinterpreted. Otabek seems...nervous? Embarrassed? "I'm not friends with anyone, not really. You know that. I told you how everyone treats me. And I don't really want to be friends with most of them."

"People are always surrounding you," Otabek says. "They always want to talk to you."

"They want to bother me. JJ just wants to get under my skin, and Chris keeps trying to give me creepy sex ed talks. I don't really know the guys our age because I didn't talk to them in juniors, and I'm pretty sure Phichit just assumes everyone likes him. But it's not like...we're not a big group or anything. They're more like Viktor's group."

"I know Leo and Seung-gil and Guang Hong, but we're not super close. We text sometimes, and we talk to each other at competitions, but that's about it."

"You're my first friend, Otabek. I told you that. I don't think it's weird if I'm your first friend, too."

Otabek's gaze snaps up. He stares into the camera. "Okay," he says slowly. "That's. Um. That's good to know."

Yuri feels awkward but proud of himself. "So. Yeah. You're not the only weird loser in this conversation, and you're gonna call him Katsudon, and I'm gonna tell him to let you because you're _my_ friend, and I'm the one who started calling him that, so I get to say it's okay."

Otabek looks like he's blushing, but Yuri's not sure. "I'd rather just call him Katsuki or something more appropriate."

"I'll ask him for you," Yuri offers.

"I'd appreciate that." Otabek looks away from the camera for a moment. When he looks into it again, Yuri feels like he's trying to make eye contact. "You can call me Beka, if you want."

Yuri feels himself grin. Otabek--Beka, Yuri corrects mentally--offering his shortened name means they're not just friends, they're _friends_. "I'd like that," he says. "You can call me Yura, or Yurochka."

"How many people call you Yurochka?"

"Just Grandpa, really. Lilia uses it every now and again, but it's rare"

"I like Yura," Beka says.

"Okay," Yuri says. "Cool." Beka nodes, and they're both silent a little too long. "Do you have time to hear the entire, humiliating story of Katsudon trying to fuck a pork bowl, or do you need to do something?" Yuri asks in a rush. 

Otabek laughs out loud, throwing his head back. "I've got time," he says. "No plans tonight."

"Settle in. It's fucking ridiculous."

*

**Yuri:** If Beka wanted to call you something that was like calling me Yura, what would that be?

**Pork Bowl:** Beka?

**Yuri:** Otabek.

**Pork Bowl:** If he'd like to call me Katsuki-san, I'd be comfortable with that.

**Yuri:** Okay. 

**Yuri:** Thanks.

*

Lilia checks Yuri's bruises every morning and continues to make him stay home. Yuri spends the time trying to figure out knitting and crochet and texting back and forth with Beka and sometimes Mila. He reads some, and he lays on the ice packs, soaks in the tub, and does his flexibility work. He listens to all the remixes on the page Beka sent to him originally and tells him what he thinks of them. Beka seems to take his comments seriously and sometimes argues for why Yuri is wrong for disliking something. 

On the following Wednesday, day six since his fall, Yuri jabs himself in the thumb with the knitting needles for the umpteenth time and decides pointy sticks he can barely control are not a good match for him. He's done better with the crochet hook and actually made about half a scarf, so he decides that settles it and focuses solely on the project that hasn't tried to kill him. 

"You can go back to practice on Monday," Lilia tells him Friday morning. "Keep resting and stretching over the weekend, and you should do fine."

"I could just do laps today," Yuri suggests. "Laps and spins," he amends because he knows there's no way he's getting on the ice and just skating around the rink. 

"No. You will rest. Come Monday, Yakov will decide exactly how much you are to do, and you will listen. It was only bruises this time. Don't tempt fate."

Yuri rolls his eyes and sighs but doesn't try to argue as she gathers her things and leaves. He throws himself onto the couch and gets crankier when it doesn't cause anything more than a few twinges.

**Yuri:** STILL ON REST. Lilia's not letting me go back until Monday.

**Beka:** Sorry to hear that. Need help figuring out what to do until then?

Yuri glances at his crochet project, which he's been keeping on the lower shelf of the coffee table. He's done some of the work in front of Lilia, and her only comment had been to tell him to sit up straight while he worked. 

**Yuri:** No, I'm going to the library today. I'll be fine.

**Beka:** So, reading worked out as a distraction?

**Yuri:** No, I'm doing that new hobby idea you had. I'll send you a picture if I don't fuck it up.

**Beka:** Looking forward to it. 

**Yuri:** Get back to work. Even with a week off, I can still kick your ass.

**Beka:** Tell it to the gold medal I'm going to steal from you next competition.

Yuri chuckles and spends a few minutes skimming twitter and Instagram. Alina's gotten good at posting at least a picture a day of Beka. The one that's gone up that morning is marked as the night before. It's Beka crouched by his bike, seeming to examine a tire.

**Otabek-altin:** Always check your tires after a pothole. You don't want a slow leak. #motorcycle #safetytips #learnalongwithotabek #heroofkazakstan #secretphotographer

Yuri grins at the picture and likes it. He considers leaving a comment, but there are already four comments hashtagged #cubs, and he decides against it.

**Yuri:** Your fans are tagging themselves on you Instagram. Welcome to the next level of crazy. 

**Otabek:** I'm honored. 

Beka sends the middle finger emoji, and Yuri laughs.

He takes a trolleybus this time because it's colder and windier than the last time he went. He tucks his chin into his scarf and texts Mila as the bus moves through traffic.

**Yuri:** I'm back on Monday. Prepare to be destroyed.

**Mila:** I can still lift you, you little shit. 

He gets off in front of the library and goes inside, pausing in the foyer to unwrap his scarf and tuck it into his bag. He takes out his phone and snaps a picture of the architecture. He sends it to Beka.

**Yuri:** The library is fucking awesome.

He walks over to the checkout desk and drops the knitting book in the return slot, then he walks over to the notions desk and is pleased to find the same librarian as last time is working. 

"You were learning to knit and crochet, yes?" she asks as she looks over from shelving a sewing machine. 

"Yes." Yuri takes the needles out of his bag and makes sure he's got all six before he sets them on the desk. "I didn't think these should go in the book drop."

"I appreciate that. Not everyone thinks about it."

Not everyone spends all day possibly slicing their hands open reaching for their skate blades, Yuri thinks but doesn't say. Instead, he reaches into his bag again and pulls out the crochet hooks. "I like the crochet stuff, and I renewed the book online, but I wanted to return these, too."

"Did you buy a set?"

"Not yet, but I'm going to later today after I look at the other books." 

"Excellent!" she gives a little clap, then leans in conspiratorially. "I don't want to take too much of a guess, but you've been wearing cat prints both times you've been in. Check out the books on amigurumi. They're tiny stuffed animals. Lots of cats."

Yuri looks down at himself and realizes he's wearing the wool socks that are stamped with a calico pattern. "I will. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He picks four more books from the hobbies section, including one that is only those tiny animals. He looks at the yarn requirements and searches the names on his phone. There are multiple yarn shops in the city, he discovers, and a lot more online. He checks the time. It's only mid-morning, and he doesn't feel sore at all. He checks out his new books and goes back to the trolleybus stop, planning the route as he waits. The nearest yarn store is only ten minutes away. Yuri spends the short ride scrolling through tumblr on his phone and looking at other people's work. Some of it is as simple as what he's working on now, but other people are way more advanced, doing whole outfits. It's mostly women, it looks like, and so there are a lot of dresses. He stares in awe at one that's a full ballgown. It had been made on a dare, the post says, and Yuri feels his competitive edge start to build. He can do that. Maybe not right this second, but he'll get there.

*

The yarn shop is run by a man and a woman. The woman approaches him first, politely asking how she can help. "I need crochet hooks," Yuri says. All he can see are knitting needles. "Do you carry them?"

"They're over here," the woman replies and leads him to a different section of the store. The man watches, half-interested, from behind the counter, then turns to the computer. "We have a range of sizes and types. What are you looking for?"

Yuri pulls the amigurumi book out of his bag and flips to a page showing a bear. "I want to make this first," he says. "For a friend."

The woman looks at the pattern and picks the appropriate hook. She also grabs the appropriate yarn. "What else?" she asks.

Yuri shows her a kitten, a pig, and a unicorn. The woman pulls the other yarns, explaining at one point that while the pink for the pig is not the same brand, it's the same weight and a similar ply.

"It won't look exactly the same, but it'll be close."

"Okay," Yuri agrees. There's a buzz of excitement in his chest at having something new to learn. He puts away the amigurumi book and pulls out one of the others, opening to a shawl pattern with sharp edges. He'd seen it while flipping through the book and immediately thought of Lilia. "What about this one?"

By the time he's done pointing to patterns, Yuri's got a handbasket full of hooks and yarn. He's also gotten a crash course in hanks versus skeins and why it was best to let the woman showing him around wind the yarn into balls rather than trying to do it himself at first. 

"Are you sure you want all of this?" the woman asks, gesturing to the basket. "The tools you can return, but we won't accept back any yarn that's been wound."

Yuri can tell by the way she's not quite meeting his eyes that she thinks he's spending too much money. He thinks so, too, but it's a worry he's had for years. In truth, he knows exactly how much is in the main account his grandfather uses and in the account that's set up for his own expenditures. Thanks to the GPF gold and the extra sponsorships it brought on, he knows everything is more flush than it's ever been. It doesn't stop him from having to talk himself down mentally before saying, "I'm sure. I think having a few projects going will help me."

"Okay, then."

The man rings him up and looks vaguely horrified at the total before he reads it out loud. Yuri swipes his bank card and drops the hooks into his bag while he waits for his yarn to be wound. He checks his phone while he waits.

**Beka:** Holy shit, that library is beautiful.

**Yuri:** If you ever visit, I'll take you.

**Beka:** I'd like that.

The woman bags the wound yarn and hands the bag to Yuri. He gives a polite goodbye and leaves. When he gets back to the apartment, he stacks all his new supplies on his dresser. 

Potya jumps up to investigate, and she pushes three skeins to the floor before Yuri can snatch her up and place her on the bed. "You asshole," he says. She head butts him and curls up on the extra pillow.

Yuri stacks the yarn in one of his desk drawers instead, then sits down to take a closer look at the pattern for the bear.

*

The weekend passes quietly. Lilia offers Yuri a movie marathon on Saturday. The temperature has dropped again, and Russian blood only gets you so far. Yuri agrees. He works on his flexibility through the first film, Lilia coming off the couch to push him further into a split or check on his hip as he moves. 

"Good, good," she says. "Your patience is improving, Yura. You'll need it."

"You've been saying that forever," Yuri replies. He takes a little extra time on his side stretches because he'd had to be careful all week. Lilia pulls carefully at his wrist and elbow when he leans over with his arm extended above his head. 

"You're lucky you didn't break anything."

"I know." 

Lilia hums rather than reply. Where Yakov yells and lectures, Lilia gets her point across in a quiet tone with as few words as possible. "How is your friend?" she asks, stepping to the other side of Yuri as he switches to stretching that way. 

"Who? Beka? He's fine."

"Good."

Yuri shifts back into a sitting position and looks up at her. "Is it weird to only have one friend?"

"No. Some people are particular."

That's the nicest way anyone's ever told Yuri he can be a pain in the ass. He finishes his last few stretches and stands up.

"Let me see your grand plié."

"I thought we were resting."

Lilia snorts gracefully. "Don't bother me. Ten grand plié, and you can knot yourself up in a ball on the couch with that scarf of yours."

"It's almost finished," Yuri tells her, lifting and dropping his arms in a circle as he completes the plié. 

"Good. Everything looks just fine." Lilia switches to a new movie. "Make us a snack."

Yuri makes a tray of vegetables and low-calorie dressing. He slices cheese and lines it along the edge of the platter, then pulls a box of crackers from the cupboard. 

"Very nice," Lilia says, taking the platter and making certain it's securely placed between two pillows on the center cushion of the couch. 

The movie starts, and Yuri picks up his scarf. He looks over what he's finished. The edges are uneven, but he's read a lot of blog posts from people who say it's part of learning. He's glad to see the edges are more even closer to the point where he's working, and he only half-concentrates on the film to try and keep them looking as nice. 

By the time the movie's over, Yuri's finished the scarf and woven in the ends. He holds it out and grins, feeling a sense of accomplishment that's different than skating or learning a new jump. 

"It's good you have a new hobby," Lilia says as she picks up the tray. "I was becoming concerned you wouldn't find anything else to catch your interest."

"I have hobbies," Yuri argues.

"Nothing that puts that look on your face," Lilia replies. "It's good to find another outlet for your sense of determination. It will help center you."

Yuri rolls his eyes. "Sure," he says. "Whatever." He folds the scarf over and places it on the arm of the couch. He stands up and stretches, taking a moment to stretch his wrists and fingers. He picks the next film and puts it in, curling under one of the blankets they've piled on the couch when he sits back down. Lilia comes from the kitchen with hot tea and hands him a mug, then takes her seat again. They watch the third movie mostly in silence, occasionally commenting on the plot, which is terrible. 

"I only let you pick half of these in the hopes they will teach you some culture," Lilia says when the movie is over. The third act had left them laughing with abandon at how badly it came together.

"You're a Bolshoi prima ballerina. If you had any more Russian culture, you'd be a painting in the National Gallery."

Lilia smiles and gives Yuri the kind of fond look that makes him wonder if his mother ever thinks of him. "Shall we make dinner?" she asks. 

Yuri stands up, knotting the blanket around his shoulders so it stays around him. He catches another fond look out of the corner of his eye, one he knows he isn't supposed to see. This one is completely soft and a little sad. Yuri wonders why she and Yakov never had children, but he doesn't ask. 

*

**Yuri:** OMG PRACTICE IM SO HAPPY DONT TELL YAKOV

**Beka:** Your secret is safe.

*

"Wow, you look rough," Beka says Thursday night in their Skype call.

Yuri yawns hugely, not even trying to hide it. "I went in early for some jump practice with Katsudon. We're both doing a quad toe, quad loop."

"That's a step up for him."

"He's getting good at it." Yuri yawns again. "Sorry. Fuck."

"I don't mind." Beka looks over his shoulder. "Hold on a minute." He stands up and steps out of shot. 

Yuri stretches his arms over his head for a moment and curls more deeply into his hoodie. When Beka comes back into frame, he looks horrified. "What happened?" Yuri asks. Beka keeps looking over his shoulder. "Beka? Hey. Hey!"

Beka looks into the camera. "There was a hand-delivered package from my fans at the door."

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Yuri leans in closer to the camera. "Are you okay? Did they say shit or something?"

"No. It's…" Beka shudders. "There was no one there when my mom opened the door, just the box."

"That is so creepy. They do that to me at hotels sometimes." Yuri watches the way Beka keeps looking around. "Hey," he says, and Beka looks at the camera again. "Get a blanket."

"What?"

"Trust me. Get a blanket. Wrap yourself up. Swear a lot. It'll help."

"How do they even have my address?"

"Could one of them have put together you and Alina?"

"I…" Beka walks out of frame again. Yuri taps his fingers on his thigh while he waits. Beka steps back up to the camera looking grim. "Alina swears if someone put it together, it wasn't because she was offering information. She walks home from school with a big group, and she knows some of them are in the fan club. We think one of them saw me or recognized my bike."

"Do you need to get off the call?"

"I need advice." Beka drops into his desk chair and runs his hands through his hair. "This is very uncomfortable."

"Yeah," Yuri agrees, not sure how to be comforting or where to start with advice.

"I don't understand why they wouldn't ask Alina to pass along a message or just put something in the post. I don't know that getting a random package by mail would be better, exactly, but ringing the bell and running feels…" Beka shakes his head.

"It's creepy because they think they've just made a connection with you, but really, they've just invaded your life."

Beka nods slowly. "Yeah." He rubs a hand over his face. "Am I overreacting?" 

"Fuck no. One, you didn't ask for this shit, and two, they have no right to push it on you, and three, even if you wanted to get to know your fans, unmarked boxes outside your house are messed up." 

Beka laughs. It's shaky, but it seems genuine. "Thank you. That's reassuring." He drops back into silence and what little pleasure had been on his face fades into blankness.

"Get a fucking blanket," Yuri says when Beka continues to sit there.

"Right. Yes." 

Yuri chews his bottom lip and wonders what else he can do to help while Beka steps out of frame again. When Beka comes back, he's wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket stamped with pictures of bears and looks a little embarrassed. "It's okay to be freaked out," Yuri says. 

"What do I do?" 

Yuri sighs. He remembers asking these same questions over and over, remembers the feeling of loss as his privacy was violated. "If you complain, they'll call you ungrateful. If you ask them to stop, they'll swear they're just showing how much they respect you."

"They showed up at my goddamn house and left an unmarked box."

"I know. Holy shit, Beka, I know." 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Yuri wants to keep reassuring Beka, but he honestly doesn't know what else to say. He knows the way this goes and knows it's only going to get worse. "What can I do?" he finally asks.

Beka closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. "Be honest with me."

"Okay."

"If I move out, will they leave my family alone?"

Yuri considers it. "I don't know, really. Grandpa always lived too far away for them to bother, and nowhere else I've lived has been accessible."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You have to have a code to get into Lilia's, and Yakov's building had a doorman. Hotels usually don't give out room numbers even if you know the person's name. They can bribe staff occasionally to leave their creepy shit at the desk, still, but it's not as bad." Yuri watches Beka pull the blanket closer around his shoulders. "Do you want to move out?"

"I've been considering it. I can afford it, and honestly, it can be strange to be here with everyone all the time after all the time I spent away. I like being with my family, but I've been wondering if I would be comfortable in my own place."

"I can't help you there. I don't have a frame of reference." Yuri thinks for a moment. "You could ask Katsudon. He lived away for a long time and then went home again. When I visited, it seemed like he really liked being home, so maybe he won't understand, but he's got a similar family to yours, so maybe he will."

"I should talk to Phichit. He roomed with Katsuki, so he's probably had a similar experience." Beka's face loses some of its tension. "Thanks, Yura. This helps."

Yuri doesn't feel like he's done anything, but he doesn't argue. "It's what friends are for, right?"

*

Two days later, Yuri is sitting on his bed and cursing at the tiny bear he's been trying to make for two hours. It looked so simple when he read the instructions, but the stitches have to be so tight to hold in the stuffing, it's hard to work his hook into them. He's on the verge of throwing the thing across the room when his phone buzzes.

**Beka:** You mentioned I could visit. Is that still a possibility?

**Yuri:** Sure. Everything okay?

**Beka:** We got another package today. My parents decided it might be best if we all left the house for a while. They're going to take Alina on a trip. I thought it would be best if I got out of the country. 

**Yuri:** I'll talk to Lilia and Yakov and make sure.

**Beka:** Could you ask Yakov if I could practice with all of you? Coach says he trusts me to stay on schedule with my new stuff while I'm gone.

**Yuri:** I'll ask. I don't think it'll be a big deal.

**Beka:** Thanks.

*

"How many foreigners are going to be on my ice?" Yakov barks when Yuri asks about Beka's visit.

"Just him and the pork bowl," Yuri replies, instantly fed up. "Come on. It's not like it's so difficult to add one more person."

"The ice is a limited space. If you all want maximum practice time and space, it's a fine balance."

"So? Shift me and Beka to a different schedule while he's here. I know my routines. I don't need you watching me constantly on them."

"It's not about knowing your routines. It's making sure the details are correct."

"Last I checked, I perfected my own details just fine at the GPF."

Yakov fumes for a minute. Yuri waits him out. "I'll see what I can do," Yakov says finally. "Prepare to get up early."

"Pffft," Yuri says, sticking out his tongue. "Whatever."

*

**Yuri:** Yakov split practice times. He paired us with Katsudon and Drama Queen.

**Beka:** Are you being punished for asking for a spot for me?

**Yuri:** I think that's what he thinks, but honestly, it's fine. It gives us way more space, and Viktor's not annoying me nearly as much.

**Beka:** I owe you one.

**Yuri:** Nah.

*

Two days before Beka arrives, Yuri gives up trying to figure things out on his own and spends three hours watching tutorials about how to make amigurumi. The next day, after practice, he manages to finish the bear with minimal effort and smiles happily at it as he snaps a picture. He pauses in the process of posting it to Instagram, then backs out of the app. This one isn't for sharing, he decides. 

*

Viktor offers to drive Yuri to the airport to pick up Beka, and Yuri agrees because Viktor had only annoyed him four times the day before and seems genuinely excited to be helpful. 

"Have you seen any of his new routines?" Viktor asks as he follows the signs to short-term parking.

"No. We've talked about them, but he doesn't seem like the type who shares until it's finished."

"Sounds like you. That's good." Viktor pulls into the short-term parking garage and starts to work his way up to the level that the overhead read-out says has spots open. "It's easier to be friends with someone you compete with when you have similar ways of working."

"How would you know? You're friends with everyone."

Viktor laughs. "Not JJ."

"It's weird you don't like JJ. You like everyone."

"You don't like JJ."

"I don't like anyone," Yuri points out. He waits for Viktor to point out that he secretly likes a few of them and definitely likes Beka, but Viktor doesn't. 

"JJ is boring," Viktor says instead. "It's nothing but skating with him."

"It's nothing but skating with all of us, you daft old man."

Viktor laughs again as he pulls into a parking spot. "No, it's not. Chris is hilariously over-sexed. Phichit is always ready to go on an adventure. Mickey is creepy about Sara. Sara is fascinating to watch break away from Mickey. Mila adores all of us at least as much as she adores skating. And Otabek, well, I don't really know any more about him than I did in Barcelona, but he likes you, and you like him, so there's something there."

Yuri gapes for a moment. "What are you? A fucking guidance counselor, listing off everyone's best qualities?"

"I suppose."

They get out of the car and walk towards the terminal. Viktor smiles up at the sky as they pass from the garage to the main airport building. "It's a beautiful day."

"Whatever," Yuri says. "Explain why JJ's boring." He adds, before Viktor can repeat what he's already said, "In detail."

"He is a skater from a family dynasty. His parents were both Olympians. All he's ever known is skating. All he's ever been prepared for is skating. He loves it, I know, because we all love it, but I don't think there was ever a moment where he _chose_ it. The rest of us--and I'm including the rest of you younger ones--there was a moment we all said yes to what we do. JJ simply went with what was happening."

"I don't remember choosing," Yuri says. They're heading towards customs without looking at signs. They've both been here so much it's second nature.

"I don't either," Viktor admits. "But we aren't from a family dynasty, Yura. My parents, your grandfather, they weren't King and Queen of skating ever. We were very young when we chose, but we chose out of passion, not history."

"Now you sound like a fortune teller."

Viktor grins and pats Yuri on the shoulder. Yuri doesn't dodge away. "Yuuri says I get too flowery sometimes."

"He's only now figuring that out? We should have given him a beginner's guide."

Viktor's grin widens. "Oh, is there one? I'd love to read it!"

Yuri shakes his head at the antics and thinks about the conversation he'd had with Yuuri a couple of weeks ago. "Did you really tell Katsudon you look forward to me beating you?"

"Yes. I wouldn't have said the same a few years ago, probably, but as you like to remind me, I'm old, and that's given me the perspective to get excited for who is going to outdo what I've done."

"Do you think I'm a better skater than you?"

"You're different. There's a fierceness in you I never had and can't fake. You'll defeat anything in your path you see as an obstacle."

They come up exit spot for customs and step over to one side so as not to impede anyone leaving. Yuri pulls down his hair, combs his fingers through it, then re-secures it in the hair tie. "Do you think Beka could beat you?"

"Absolutely. But he'll do it differently than you. A different routine, a different jump sequence. I don't think you'll ever compete against each other with anything similar."

Yuri thinks about that as they wait for Beka's flight to land. Viktor takes out his phone and starts texting. Yuri checks his various apps. There's an actual selfie of Beka, clearly mid-way through his flight. He's holding up a glass with clear liquid and a lemon slice. 

**Otabak-altin:** working vacation means staying on my diet. It's sparkling water. #nobooze #ipromisecoach #notmysecretphotographer #theyreonvacationtoo

Yuri grins when he reads the comments and sees the #otacubs trying to figure out where Beka could possibly be going. A couple of them mention St. Petersburg, but Angels in the comments reply that it's impossible. There's been no social media proof from Yuri, and he would definitely say something.

"That's what you think," Yuri mutters.

"Hrm?" Viktor looks over. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Yuri replies. "Just looking at Instagram."

"I saw Otabek's picture. It seems like he's trying to misdirect people."

Yuri thinks about Viktor's fangirls, who have never been so invasive as his own but have sent marriage proposals a _lot_. "Beka's got his own version of the Angels," he admits. "They started sending stuff to his house."

"It's good he has you, then. You understand what that's like."

That is nowhere near the response Yuri expects. He mumbles nonsense under his breath and doesn't offer up any other information. They both go back to their phones.

Twenty minutes later, people start coming through the customs exit a few at a time. Yuri stands on his toes to try and spot Beka, but Beka finds him first, cutting through the crowd and giving Yuri a small smile when they spot each other.

"You saw Viktor, didn't you?" Yuri asks.

"Well, he's taller than you," Beka replies as he adjusts the straps of his backpack. He looks uncertain for a moment, then holds out his arm, fist closed. Yuri fist bumps him. "Thanks for having me."

"No problem."

Beka turns and shakes Viktor's hand. "Good to see you."

"And you," Viktor replies, his smile nearly breaking his face. "I'm excited to see you skate."

"Thank you." Beka shifts his backpack on his shoulders. "I had to check duffle. They said it'll be on carousel 6."

"We are very familiar with carousel 6," Viktor says, turning on his heel to lead the way, "I think Chris rode it once."

"Chris has ridden everything once," Yuri replies, and he smiles when Beka elbows him. 

They make their way to baggage claim, Viktor keeping up a stream of chatter that's about the weather and traffic and where he thinks Otabek should get coffee while he's visiting.

"What's near your place?" Beka asks Yuri. 

"Cafes. Coffee shops. Stuff." Yuri shrugs. 

"And the library, right?"

Yuri feels his smile widen and tries to fight it. "Yeah. Of course."

"Carousel 6!" Viktor announces as they walk under the sign. The baggage claim is crowded but the belts are still empty. Viktor gestures to a coffee kiosk across from baggage claim. "I'm getting a coffee. Yuri will have a latte. What about you, Otabek?"

"Black coffee, please." Beka gives Viktor a small nod of thanks and then looks back at Yuri. "I'm surprised he's still alive."

Yuri shrugs. "I dunno. He's less annoying off the ice lately. Your flight okay?"

"It was comfortable." Beka adjusts his backpack again. "Thanks again for letting me hide out."

"Hey, no problem. Anything weird happen before you got on the plane?"

"No, but I also didn't mention anything about it to anyone outside my coach and family until the selfie on the plane."

"That's a really good picture. You should make it your profile picture on everything."

Beka looks confused. "What's wrong with my profile photo? Alina doesn't like it, either."

"It looks like a mug shot." Yuri shrugs when Beka gives him an indignant look. "It does. Like you just got busted smuggling cocaine into an event or something. If you don't want to use a personal picture, at least use a promo shot. I know you've got plenty of those."

"My mother has them filed by year."

Yuri laughs. "Get a digital copy of a recent one, resize it, and slap it up."

"That's a good idea." Beka pulls his phone from his pocket as the light and buzzer above carousel 6 goes off. "I need to tell Alina that."

"What's your bag look like?"

"It's my competition duffel. It's got two neon green bands on the handle and the Kazakh flag on the side."

Yuri turns towards the claim belt as it grinds to a start. A half-dozen suitcases slide by before Yuri spots the unmistakable lumpy shape of a competition duffel and the two bands. He pulls it off the belt in a well-practiced motion and turns back towards Beka, who is taking two coffee cups from Viktor and nodding at something he's saying.

"Here," Beka says, holding out one of the cups to Yuri. "I can take my bag."

"I got it," Yuri replies. "Not like I never have to carry one."

Beka smiles. "True. I'm not used to visiting skaters, I guess."

They exit the terminal and walk to short-term parking, Viktor again picking up the conversational thread. He describes the rink to Otabek, then questions Otabek about his jump sequences for his new routines.

"And your costumes?" Viktor asks when they're in the car and he's navigating down the ramps.

"I don't know, yet. I don't really think about that part. My coach works with a tailor, and they come up with a few ideas, and I pick one I like."

"Lucky," Yuri says. "I had to bargain for a say in my costumes this year _and_ next season."

"You did a good job," Viktor says. "Let Lilia and Yakov have one more year in charge of your music and theme, and you'll be better for it."

"What is your theme for next season?" Beka asks, turning around in his seat to look at Yuri, who's stretched out in the back. "Have you picked it already?"

Yuri pulls a face. "Growth."

Beka looks like he's holding back a laugh. "It's not...bad."

"Don't bullshit me."

Beka shrugs. "We all have that season. Mine was called 'build up'."

"Springtime," Viktor says. "Looking back, it was a rather pedestrian choice." He chuckles. "Yuuri's was 'Expansion.' It was his first season training in Detroit. He and Ciao-Ciao had a miscommunication."

"I wonder if the announcement is on youtube," Yuri says.

"It was," Viktor says. "It's not now." The tone of his voice isn't much different, but it's enough. 

"Yeah, I hear you. No teasing Piggy about expanding."

"What's your next theme, Otabek?" Viktor asks, back to his usual good cheer. Otabek looks a little frightened at how quickly he's altered moods.

"Determination," he says. "I picked it. I figure it matches my skating and my goals."

"It certainly does. If you're looking to experiment a bit with your style, I'd be happy to offer suggestions."

"I don't want to take up your time. I just need rink time."

"It's no issue!"

Beka considers it. Yuri watches the way his mouth shifts as he thinks. "I've been thinking about adding a few looser movements. Something a little feminine, you know? Play a little with the masculine expectation of how I move."

"Just a few tweaks," Viktor says with a nod. "And you'll be staying with Yuri, so Lilia can offer her advice as well."

"Don't rent out my choreographer, you asshole," Yuri says. "Ignore him if you want, Beka. He's just planning his coaching career for when his hip breaks this season."

"No," Beka says slowly, glancing at Yuri, then back at Viktor, whose eyes are on the road. "I think I'd like to try at least. If I won't be taking someone else's time."

"It's my pleasure," Viktor says. "We'll make sure you take out JJ this year for certain."

Beka looks shocked, then chuckles quietly. "We'll see," he answers. "I'm sure his programs will be as difficult as always."

"He texted out his theme to all of us," Viktor says. "I saw you were on the recipient list."

Beka nods, "Yeah, we talk sometimes."

"How?" Yuri groans. "He's insufferable."

"Yes, but we trained together when I was in Canada. I don't consider us friends, but I don't mind hearing from him."

"It's an excellent theme," Viktor says, guileless.

Beka chuckles. "I'm surprised you didn't text me about it," he tells Yuri.

"I have no idea what it is," Yuri says, stretching his hands above his head. "I deleted it without reading it."

"I think you'll like it, Yura," Viktor says. "It's similar to your own."

Yuri groans. "Now, I really don't want to know."

"You do," Beka says.

Viktor gives Beka a wide grin. "He feels, after GPF, he's learned quite a lot about himself and chose 'maturity.'"

"Well, he had to sometime," Beka says before Yuri can do more than sputter. Viktor throws back his head and laughs.

*

"There's a guest room if you want it," Yuri says as he unlocks the door and leads Beka into the apartment. "But I've also got a double bed if you just want to crash with me. Lilia won't care either way as long as we show up for practice on time."

"I'll just share with you, then. No reason to dirty up an extra room." Beka follows Yuri down the hall to his bedroom.

"Bathroom," Yuri says, pointing at the door across the hall. "Lilia's room," he says, pointing to the end of the hall. "She has her own bathroom, so don't worry about taking up space."

"Okay." 

"And my room," Yuri says, throwing himself on the bed as he walks in. "You can put your stuff anywhere."

Beka places his duffel and backpack in the corner next to the desk. He jumps in surprise when Potya pokes her head out from under the desk and noses at him. "Hello," he says quietly. He crouches down and holds his hand out, palm down. He smiles when Potya bumps her head against his hand. "She's even prettier than the pictures you send."

"Yeah," Yuri agrees, rolling on his stomach so he can watch Beka pet Potya. "She's great when she's not a fucking monster."

"Does she like being held?"

"Loves it, but wait until she jumps in your lap the first time. She might bite if you try it now."

"Okay." Beka scratches behind her ears and under her chin and stands up, stretching from head to toe. He takes in the room and smiles. "I like it," he says. "It looks like you."

"Whatever," Yuri replies, not sure what else to say. "You hungry? Thirsty? Want to take a nap?"

"I could use some water. Oh, and I have something for you."

Yuri jerks upright, suddenly remembering the bear he'd stashed in his night table. "Oh, yeah, I have something for you, too."

"Really?" Beka looks pleased. "Mine's not physical. I, uh, I made you a remix."

"What? No way!"

"Yeah, it's not…" Beka reaches into his backpack and pulls out his laptop. "It's not anything serious, but I think you'll get why I made it."

"I wanna hear it!" Yuri bounces on the bed and feels a little foolish. "Um, how about you set up at the kitchen island, and I'll get the thing I have for you and get you something to drink?"

"That works," Beka says. He walks out of the room before Yuri.

Yuri opens his night table and looks at the bear. It feels silly now to gift it, but he made it, damnit. He tucks it into the pocket of his hoodie and goes into the kitchen. He pours water for them both as Beka powers up his laptop.

"Here," Yuri says, placing the bear on the counter next to Beka's hand. "I. Um. I made it."

Beka picks up the bear and runs his thumbs over the stitches. "Wow," he says quietly. He smiles as he takes in its face. "You gave it angry eyebrows."

"Seemed appropriate." Yuri looks down at the counter, tapping a finger against his glass. "I just figured, you get bears from your fans, so maybe you'd like one more."

"It's great, Yura." Otabek turns the bear over in his hands again. "Thank you. Is this what you did when you were injured?"

"Yeah. I tried knitting, but I was better at crochet. That's what it is, crochet."

Otabek places the bear on his laptop, leaning against the edge of the screen where it's not obscuring anything. "What's his name?"

"I made him, Beka. I didn't name him."

"You should name him," Beka says, looking at his laptop screen as he taps his trackpad. "You made him."

Yuri screws up his face, tempted to tell Beka he's being weird. Instead, he takes a slow breath. Beka isn't teasing him, not really. There's a bit of a smile at the corners of his mouth, but it looks more fond than anything. "Um. You could call it Misha. Or Ted."

"I like Ted." Beka pats the bear on the head. "Ted."

Yuri feels like he's going to fall over from embarrassment. "Are you gonna play my remix?" he asks, more frantically than he means to, but Beka doesn't seem to notice.

"Just a second," Beka says. He clicks his mouse a few more times. A low, hard beat starts slowly, then speeds up. "There."

Yuri listens, feeling the thrum in his veins that tells him he knows this song. Not like having heard it over and over because he put it on repeat, but knows it in his bones, like a program song. "Wait," he says, as the beat shifts and speeds up. "What. Fuck. No way!" He beams at Beka. "You remixed _Agape_?"

"Yeah."

Yuri barks a laugh. "This is for the vid, right? The super shitty vid?"

"I bribed Alina to go on some of the message boards and see what people considered their favorite official program music. They _love_ Agape."

Yuri laughs again. "It's perfect!"

Beka's eyes are bright and happy. "I thought so. I figure the remixed song over bad visuals was a good combination."

Yuri walks around the kitchen island and hugs Beka without thinking. "Oh my god! This is the greatest! We should totally make the video this week, but we should post it later."

"I was thinking right after GPF announcements, since you'll definitely get in," Beka replies. He hugs Yuri back. It's softer than Yuri is hugging him, but he seems comfortable in it. "Or right before. Whenever they'll be in the biggest frenzy."

"After," Yuri says, stepping away. He grips Beka's shoulders before he lets go. "Unless I come up with something before then. But. Holy shit, Beka. This is gonna be so much fun." He slaps a hand over his mouth. "We can't tell Mila. She will totally show it to me on her own."

"I want video of that," Beka replies. 

"Totally. Holy shit. This is gonna be _great_."

*

Otabek falls asleep early, the time difference catching up with him quickly. Lilia and Yuri stay up a couple of hours longer. Yuri works methodically on the body of the pig from his book, and Lilia reads a novel.

"Viktor texted me today about helping Otabek with some small movements," Lilia says after she's marked her place in her book. "Any objections?"

"No," Yuri says, looking up from his decreases. "We don't move the same, even if you help us both."

Lilia nods in approval. "I'll help him, then."

Yuri has another bloom of emotion for her like he did a couple of weeks ago. "You don't have to check in with me, Lilia. I know you choreograph for other people."

She looks at him for a long moment. "You'll notice none of the others live here, and I have an extra bedroom," she says. 

Yuri feels like squirming, but he holds still. He's learned how from Lilia. "Yeah," he says. "I noticed." He tries to tell her with a look that he knows what she's not saying, and he thinks he feels the same.

"Go to sleep soon, Yurochka." She stands and stretches, then leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head. She rarely calls him Yurochka, and she's never been outwardly affectionate. Yuri doesn't know how to tell her he's okay with it. "I expect as much from you this week as always."

"Yes, Lilia," Yuri replies, half-sarcastic, but he closes his eyes so she can't see how much she means to him..

*

Yuri makes egg white omelets and a double portion of oatmeal the next morning. He can hear Beka shuffling around in the bathroom as he pours them both milk. "Do you need coffee?" he calls down the hallway.

"No," Beka calls back. "I always get it during morning break."

"Sounds good." Yuri splits the oatmeal into two bowls and sets the omelets on plates. He sets everything on the table as Beka comes out of the bathroom, dressed in training clothes and with his hair combed straight back.

"This looks good," Beka says as he sits and reaches for the honey. "Thank you."

"Sure. It's just breakfast."

They eat in comfortable silence, both of them flipping through their phones. 

"My family's vacation rental," Beka says, holding out his phone so Yuri can see a picture of the house. There's a woman with Beka's chin standing on the stoop and smiling and a smaller version of her standing to one side, sticking out her tongue. 

"Nice," Yuri says. "That's Alina, huh?"

"Yeah, and my mom." Beka turns his phone back around and grins when his message chime goes off. "And this is my dad."

It's a selfie, showing a smiling, bearded man with Beka's nose. He's standing a few feet from the house from the first picture, angling the camera so the large backyard can be seen.

"So, your parents can smile, but not you and Alina?"

Beka shakes his head. "We're difficult children."

Yuri finishes his food and stands to clear the table, but Beka waves him away and takes the dishes into the kitchen himself. "You're a guest," Yuri says.

"I'm just rinsing them."

"Still."

"If anyone asks, you were a perfect gentleman who wouldn't let me lift the soap."

Yuri chuckles at that and gathers up his coat, gloves, scarf, and hat. He makes sure he has a hair tie on his wrist before hefting his duffel onto his shoulder. Beka dons his own outerwear and grabs his duffel as well. 

"We can take the bus if it's too cold for you," Yuri says as they step onto the sidewalk. It's cold, but moderately so by Yuri's standards.

Beka tucks his scarf closer to his neck and gestures Yuri to lead the way. "I can walk it."

They do so in another comfortable silence. When they get to the rink, Yuri finds it suspiciously quiet. He checks the time. They're a few minutes early, but not so much the rink should be empty. "This is weird," he says. "Yakov said he was going to move a few people around the schedule, but this is way more than I was expecting. When he said it was us, Viktor, and Katsudon, I thought a couple of other people would still be here."

"I hope I didn't push anyone off their routine," Beka replies. 

"There you are!" Lilia calls from across the rink. She has a notebook open and is jotting something down. "Viktor and Yuuri are already in the locker room. Hurry up."

"Where is everyone?" Yuri asks.

"Not here," Lilia replies. "But they will be in an hour. Put your things away and come see me. No skates."

"Yes, ma'am," Yuri says.

Viktor and Yuuri are both stretching when Yuri and Beka walk into the locker room. They're on parallel benches, laughing quietly about something. "Hello!" Viktor says when he spots them. Yuuri gives them a quiet "Good morning." 

"Whatever," Yuri says.

"Good morning," Beka says.

"Such a polite young man," Viktor says. "You could learn something, Yuri."

Beka smirks when Yuri glares at Viktor.

Viktor laughs. Yuuri shakes his head, but he's smiling. "We'll meet you out there! Hurry up!"

"Where the fuck is everyone?" Yuri asks as he grabs his water bottle and stows his duffel in a locker.

"Did Yakov not tell you?" Yuuri looks surprised when Yuri shakes his head. "Lilia's got us all lined up for an hour in the mornings for stretching, and then Yakov has just us on the ice for an hour after that."

"Stretching?" Beka asks, looking terrified. "Um, I'm probably not as limber as all of you."

"It's okay, none of us are as limber as Yura," Yuuri replies. "It'll be good for you."

Beka looks at Yuri as Viktor and Yuuri leave. "I'm going to die."

Yuri doesn't bother reassuring him. Lilia takes no prisoners and gives no relief. "If you're lucky," he says. 

*

Yuri finds the stretching a bit simple, but he knows better than to mock Lilia or anyone else. She'll really put the screws to him if he says anything. So, he follows along and helps Beka hold his positions when he looks like his feet are going to go out from under him. 

"Hold onto me," Yuri says, as he steps between Beka and the boards. Beka grips his shoulders. "Good. Lean in. I've got you."

Beka leans, stretching his back leg even higher in the air. He breathes out hard, clearly pushing himself.

"Not terrible," Lilia says. 

"Breathe in," Yuri tells him as Lilia grabs Beka's ankle and presses his leg even straighter.

Beka does, and the determined line of his mouth gets sharper. "Are there videos of the form?" he asks between careful breaths. "I'd like to have a reference when I practice in front of the mirror."

"You," Lilia says, tapping Beka's leg so he'll drop it and then gesturing for him to lift the other. "Are now my favorite student." 

Beka gives Yuri a smug look. "Oh, get over it," Yuri says, making sure his grip on Beka's waist is secure. "I've never been her favorite."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a big shout out to HugeAlienPie and Templemarker for their beta work and the_wordbutler for her never-ending cheerleading. It's good to have a squad.

As they all come out of the locker room after stretching, skates on, Yakov appears from the depths of the rink to yell at Yuri about his step sequences. Viktor laughs and teases Yuuri as he tries a different entrance into a jump sequence, comes down wobbly, but holds position. Otabek skates in the rink between the others, working through a portion of his program that includes precise arm positions. 

"Otabek!" Viktor calls out to him as Yuuri lands the jump sequence correctly and skates to the wall for a drink of water, "Loosen your elbows!"

"When?" Otabek asks, pausing in his sequence but still skating in a slow circle.

"Here," Viktor says, skating over and positioning himself next to Otabek. "Show me how it goes, a piece at a time."

"Yura!" Yakov shouts. "Stop staring and finish your step sequence!"

"I wasn't staring!" Yuri replies, though he was, a little. It's interesting to see other skaters working on the details. He's so used to his rink mates, he never pays attention anymore, but Beka's practice routine is new to him.

The rest of the hour passes in intense concentration. The step sequence is more difficult than the ones from his previous program, and Yuri keeps tripping up near the end. He doesn't fall, just keeps missing the same step, and he's sweat-soaked and frustrated by the time Yakov tells him to take ten. 

"It's getting there," Yuuri tells him as they meet at the benches.

Yuri is too frustrated to say anything nice, but he doesn't want to snap at Yuuri, whose step sequences are a level above even what Yuri's trying to pull off for his new routine. He drops to the bench in silence and pulls at his hair tie to let down his bun. It catches as he pulls it out. " _Fuck_!" he yells.

"Wait," Beka says as he comes off the ice, tucking his skating guards on as he nears Yuri. "Don't yank or you'll lose half your hair."

"Never have before," Yuri grumbles. He tugs again, but the hair tie stays stuck.

Beka steps behind him and pushes his hand away. "Hold still," he says and carefully untangles the knot that's caught the hair tie. "There."

"Thanks," Yuri mutters. He runs his hands through his hair and scratches his scalp. "Ugh, it gets so gross right where my bun sits," he says.

"I could braid it again, if you want. It'll keep all the sweat from gathering in one place."

"That would be awesome. I still can't braid for shit."

"Why not ask Viktor or Lilia? They can both braid."

"Ugh. No." Yuri tilts his head back when Beka runs his fingers through it, smoothing it out. "Viktor would think it was a bonding moment, and Lilia's got enough to do."

"I can help you practice this week. It's getting long enough; it should be easier."

"That'd be cool."

Beka braids his hair quickly, pulling it tighter than he did the morning after the banquet. "Too tight?"

"Nah. Lilia does a lot worse for my performance hair."

"Okay." Beka ties off the braid. "Good to go."

"Thanks."

"Yura!" Yakov shouts. "You and Altin get over here! His coach sent me his jump list. I want to see you both work your combos!"

"I thought you were just going to practice your routine on your own," Yuri says.

"So did I," Beka replies, getting the same frightened look that he had before stretching. "Coach didn't mention sending my information. I didn't ask him to since I'm only here for a week, and I figured I'd be fine for a few days."

"Dick move."

"A test, more likely. To make sure I'll put in the level of work I need." Beka shrugs as they remove their skate guards. "It's a show of faith. He knows I'll listen and let Yakov teach me and correct me and that I'll come back from this visit with my new routines in a better place."

"Still sounds like a dick move," Yuri says.

*

The rest of the skaters show up just as Yuri and Beka finish getting yelled at by Yakov. Mila runs over to the partition and leans over towards Yuri. "Where is he? I have to meet him. It's like meeting a unicorn."

"What the fuck, hag?"

Mila rolls her eyes. "Otabek. Your one true friend."

"That would be me, I guess," Beks says as he walks over. "Hello."

"Oh my god!" She raises her arms like she's going to hug him, and Beka steps backwards a few feet. "Do you know he actually seems to _like_ people now? To be fair, it's only you and his grandpa, but that's an improvement! What's your secret? Catnip? Salmon treats?"

"Hag, I will shit in your locker."

Mila waves him off. "Your hair looks great," she says. "I assume that was you?" she asks Otabek.

"It was."

"I want a picture!"

"No, Beka's in hiding. No photos."

"What?"

"No. Photos." Yuri repeats. He doesn't watch Mila's face, he watches her hands. She's stealthy at photos when she wants to be.

"Why are you hiding?" She asks Otabek. 

"Fans."

Mila's whole demeanor changes. She looks sad and horrified. "Oh, no, not you, too!"

Yuri sputters in indignation. "Really?! You're concerned about _him_ when I've been getting harassed for _years_?"

Mila stares at Yuri in disbelief. "What? Yura, I know I tease you with those videos and things, but if those crazies got within arm's reach, I'd throw them into the river from _here_. You know that."

"I do not know that!"

Mila crosses her arms. "Well, fuck you very much."

Yuri is at a loss. He looks at Beka, who looks even more confused. "But," Yuri says. He wants to yell and stomp off, but he doesn't want to feel even more awkward in front of Beka. "Fuck," he mutters. Mila's stance doesn't change, but Yuri doesn't know how to apologize. A standard, "sorry I was an ass," doesn't seem sufficient, even though Mila has always accepted those apologies before.

"You should tell her about that video we're going to make," Beka says. "I know you weren't planning to, but I bet she could help."

"Video?" Mila asks, still glaring daggers at Yuri. 

It's the perfect solution. Not an apology, more of a peace offering. A way to show Mila he really doesn't think she'd leave him to his doom if it came down to it. "We're making a fanvid about me. Beka remixed 'Agape,' and we're gonna put a bunch of really unflattering shots together and pretend like it's genuine."

Mila's eyes widen. She covers her hands with her mouth and bounces up and down. "I have so many unflattering shots of you! I can't believe you weren't going to let me help! And I have watched so many bad vids!"

"Do you have a playlist?" Beka asks. "If we want it to look authentic, we should watch them."

"I'll send you some links," Mila says. "I've got to get changed." She turns and walks to the locker room, waving goodbye behind her.

"You just saved my ass," Yuri tells Beka. "I was afraid she'd never speak to me again."

"For someone you say bothers you so much, you obviously care about her."

Yuri takes a deep breath and lets it out. "That's been happening a lot," he admits as he steps off the ice. He goes over to his duffel and digs out protein bars for both of them. "Am I maturing?"

"Can you?" Beka chuckles when Yuri gives him a dirty look. He takes a bite of his protein bar and looks thoughtful while he chews. "Maybe you are. Or maybe taking gold made them rethink how they see you."

"I've won plenty of gold."

"Not senior division."

Yuri finishes his protein bar and takes a drink of water. "Why are you so good at thinking this stuff through? And don't say it's because you're older than me. I'll be sixteen before you're nineteen."

"It's probably because of my parents. They were both raised in fairly traditional households where you didn't question certain things and it was acceptable to be told something wasn't worth thinking about. Neither of them liked that. They're both in the sciences, so they've always wanted answers to everything. When they met and realized they were in love, they agreed they'd be open and honest about all things and not try to tell their children what they could or couldn't think. They've raised us to think things through and consider positive possibilities alongside negative ones."

"I never had to figure out much with Grandpa. We just always got each other. He's always believed in me and supported me, and he's never had a problem as long as I haven't done something stupid." Yuri puts down his water bottle and stares at the floor for a moment. "If I wanted to talk about something, we'd talk about it, but I never thought to ask why he was so willing."

"I never asked, either. My parents re-tell that story any time Alina or I look like we're hesitant to ask a question." Beka smiles fondly. "I recite it to her if she comes to me first. She recited it to me before Barcelona."

Yuri chuckles. "What were you hesitant about?"

"I didn't want to be some weird nobody asking to be your friend. Alina caught me looking confused and got it out of me."

"What'd she say?"

"You are weird, and a nobody, but you can't make friends by staring at people."

Yuri lets out a full laugh. "And that helped?"

"It did, and then you said anyone wearing their sunglasses on their head was an asshole and looked directly at me, and I figured, maybe, you were sort of weird, too."

Yuri cringes at the memory. "I really was just trying to get JJ to fuck off."

"I know. It helped, though, seeing you do something embarrassing like that. It helped me be certain I wasn't just having some weird crush from afar."

"...crush?"

Beka shrugs, looking unconcerned about his word choice. "I can't really think of a better word."

Yuri nods because he's not sure what to say. The word 'crush' sticks in the back of his mind as they get back on the ice, and he's not sure why. Maybe because he's only heard it in a romantic context, he thinks. He shakes it loose as Yakov yells about his free leg and puts his concentration back into practice.

*

"You're free!" Viktor says at the morning break.

"What?" Yuri asks, not looking up from unlacing his skates. "We know, you bag of bones. We're going to run out for coffee."

"He means he badgered Yakov so you two could have the rest of the day off," Yuuri explains. He grins when Yuri jerks his head up. "Only for this afternoon, though. The rest of the week, you're both on a full schedule."

"But...why?" Yuri asks.

"Your friend is in town! You should have at least one afternoon where you're not exhausted and trying to sightsee!" Viktor says. "Go home. Shower. Show Otabek the sights!"

Yuri looks at Beka. Beka looks pleased. Yuri looks back at Viktor and Yuuri. "Fine. Like I really need an afternoon's practice to beat either of you."

"You'll need it to beat me," Beka says. Viktor and Yuuri both laugh. Yuri ducks his head under the guise of taking off his skates to hide his smile.

"We'll see," he says, once he's sure he can keep a straight face.

They take their skates to the locker room and change into clothes that aren't clammy with sweat. "We can hang out at the coffee shop for a while if you want," Yuri says as they bundle up again. "Or we could get it to go and go back to the apartment."

"Let's go back. We can drop off our things, and you can show me around."

"Cool."

They leave the rink, Yuri flipping Mila and Georgi the bird when they heckle them and call them lazy. Yuri leads the way to the coffee shop. It's a block down and around a corner. Inside, there are only a smattering of patrons, and Yuri orders for both of them. 

"Wait," Beka says when Yuri pays for both drinks.

"You'll get the next one," Yuri replies. "It's your first coffee in Russia."

"I've had plenty of coffee in Russia."

"You know what I mean. Like, as a visitor, not a competitor."

Beka nods in understanding and doesn't argue further. They take their coffees and leave, walking slowly down the street, enjoying the brightness of the mid-morning sun. "I feel lazy," Beka says. "Like I should be doing pushups or something."

"Stretching is what you probably should do. The easier stuff, so you're not super sore when Lilia tortures you tomorrow."

"I'm pretty sure my hip joints disintegrated for a moment."

"That is literally how I feel--oh, fuck." Yuri thrusts his coffee at Beka, who takes it without question. "Viktor got Yakov to give the okay, but I don't know if he cleared my ballet lesson with Lilia. It'd be like him to forget." He pulls his right glove off with his teeth as he grabs his phone with his other hand. He has four missed texts from Mila, but he ignores them in favor of making sure Lilia isn't going to kill him for not showing up.

**Yuri:** Yakov cut me loose for the rest of the day. Do I still have ballet?

**Lilia:** No. Lucky for Viktor, I overheard him asking and told him I'd let you go as well. Tell Otabek I expect to see him stretching tonight, and he will join you in the studio tomorrow.

**Yuri:** K.

He drops his phone back into his pocket and puts his glove back on. "Lilia okayed it, too, so we have the whole day. But you have to stretch tonight, and you're going with us to the studio tomorrow."

"Is there any way I can get out of that?"

"Nope."

Beka takes a long drink of coffee like he's trying to look cool and not slightly terrified. Yuri takes his coffee back and takes another drink as they resume their walk. "When my hips snap, promise you'll visit me in the hospital."

"Sure," Yuri agrees. "I'll make us something to eat when we get in, then we can figure out what we're doing. Have you ever done sightseeing here?"

"No. I'm happy to see anything."

"Okay. We can start with the library, and from there we've got a lot of--" Yuri cuts off when Beka's phone rings.

Beka pulls it from his pocket. "Alina," he says, looking confused. "Hi," he answers it. "What's--" His face blanches, and he clenches his hand so hard around his takeaway cup, the lid pops loose.

"Beka?" Yuri whispers. Beka's jaw is clenched. Yuri grabs the bottom of his coffee cup and gives it a small tug so Beka will release it. He's afraid Beka will crush the thing and burn himself if he's not careful.

Beka has a rushed conversation in Kazakh that Yuri can't follow, but he can tell by the tone that Beka is trying to make Alina feel better. He says something, pauses, then says goodbye. He puts his phone in his pocket and stares down the street.

"Is your family okay?"

"Yes." Beka takes his coffee from Yuri and presses the lid back into place. 

"Beka?"

"It's not a good idea for me to talk right now. I'll tell you when we're inside."

Yuri makes himself breathe slowly. He feels terrified but not like Beka's going to do something to him. He's terrified, he thinks, because he thought he'd seen the pinnacle of Beka's self control, and this is beyond that. It's like Beka's holding himself together in the set of his jaw. "Okay," Yuri says. "Just a few more blocks."

The silence lies hard and heavy around them. Yuri feels like he's got a concrete block on his back and like Beka has two or three. He doesn't try to start another conversation when they step into the building or when they get on the elevator. He knows somehow that when Beka said 'inside' he had meant in the apartment itself. 

Beka starts talking the moment the deadbolt is turned. "One of your fans spotted us at the coffee shop and posted it to twitter. Now _my_ fans are trying to recruit one of yours to follow us around."

"Fuck," Yuri says. It doesn't feel like enough. "Shit. Fuck. Goddamn. Fuck."

Beka sags into himself. "How do you do this, Yuri? This is every day for you."

"I'm used to it, and I'm not as private as you are." Yuri puts down his coffee and walks over to take Beka's from him again. "Want to stay in for a while? Give them an hour, and they'll be distracted by something."

"Like what?"

Yuri grins. "Like a diversion. Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"Take off your shirt. I'll take off mine. We'll take an abs selfie, and I'll post to Instagram telling people to choose whose look better."

Beka blinks slowly, like he's suddenly very tired. "You want to divert them by getting half-naked?"

"Yeah. I mean, lots of people see you shirtless, right? No way your sponsors have you fully dressed all the time."

"Well, no, but…" Beka tilts his head, considering. "Wait, I think I get it."

"If you're not cool with being shirtless, we can do better hair or something," Yuri offers. "Shirtless is just the obvious one."

"Is it?"

Yuri stops to think. He's never put this into words before. "It's like, they think they're getting away with something, right? They think it's sort of sexy and hot that we'd be shirtless together, but I mean, come on. When was the last time you _weren't_ surrounded by shirtless dudes in a locker room?"

Beka chuckles, his shoulders relaxing for the first time since Alina's call. "I get it. It's no big deal, but they don't think about it from our standpoint."

"Yeah. Exactly. Although, I have to warn you, this could lead to some rampant speculation about your sexuality."

Beka shrugs. "That's been happening for years anyways. It happens to all of us."

"True." Yuri shifts his weight, feeling uncomfortable. "Um. Also. I'm not straight."

"Okay?"

"Just. There's going to be rampant speculation about your sexuality, and I'm not straight, and I'm not out, but I will be at some point, and any suggestive pictures with you will definitely get dragged back into the open after I come out."

"Well, I mean, I'm not straight either. I don't know if I'll ever be publicly out, but if you're telling me, it's only fair to tell you."

It takes Yuri a moment to process. "Oh," he says. He gives himself a shake. "Okay. Cool. So, shirtless?"

"Sure."

**Yuri-plisetskey:** Having a best abs contest with @otabek-altin. The poor guy thinks he's going to win.

Yuri turns off notifications for the post and makes sure Beka does the same. He checks the texts from Mila because he sees there are more than before.

**Mila:** Yura, do not go on twitter.

**Mila:** One of your creepy fans took a photo of you and Otabek.

**Mila:** It's all over the place. They're scouting for a stalker.

**Mila:** Yura, blink twice if you've just committed homicide.

**Mila:** Answer me, you little shit. I will bench press you if you don't.

**Mila:** Cancel threat. Saw your Instagram. Good diversion. Otabek wins because you didn't answer me.

"Lame," Yuri mutters and shows the phone to Beka.

"I'll take a default," Beka replies. He's pulled his shirt back on and is hanging up his outerwear. 

"We can still stay in awhile if you want," Yuri offers. 

Beka sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure I want to go out at all, honestly. What if someone else sees us?"

"We kick them into the river." Yuri grins when Beka breaks a small smile. "And we can totally be lazy here if you want. The library will be there tomorrow. I'll make food if you want to find something for us to watch or take a shower."

Beka showers while Yuri fixes them salads full of dark greens, chopped eggs, chicken, nuts, and bean sprouts. He takes his turn in the shower while Beka looks through the movie collection and reviews television listings. When Yuri comes out of the shower, Beka's placed their salads on the coffee table and is pouring their coffee into actual mugs. 

"Thanks," Yuri says as he finishes toweling his hair and walks to his bedroom. He changes into leggings and a t-shirt, then pulls the comforter off the bed. He also grabs the pillows. Potya lifts her head from where she's sleeping on the dresser, then lowers it again after deciding whatever is happening isn't interesting. Yuri kisses her on the top of the head before going back to the living room. 

"Here," he says, tossing a pillow to Beka. "Might as well be comfortable."

"Thanks." Beka catches the pillow and holds up a movie case in his other hand. "I've seen it before, but I like it."

"Me, too," Yuri replies. "Back in a second." He goes back into the bedroom and grabs his crochet supplies. He sets it on the side table by his end of the couch before settling under the blanket and reaching for his food and coffee. "Ready when you are," he says.

Beka hits play, and they both relax into the couch, eating their salads and finishing their coffees. When Yuri's finished, he reaches for the pig he had been working on the night before. He's pretty sure he can finish the thing before the movie ends. 

When he ducks his head to start working, a few strands of hair fall in his eyes.

"Come here," Beka says, gesturing to a spot in front of the sofa. "I can rebraid it while you do whatever you're doing."

"I'm making a pig," Yuri replies, sliding to the floor and settling between Beka's legs. "And after that, I'm making a unicorn, and I'm giving them to Katsudon and Viktor."

"Nice," Beka says. He's running his fingers through Yuri's hair, checking for knots and making sure it's as smooth as it can be to work with. "Mind if I mess around with this? There are some six-strand braids on Pinterest I've been wanting to try."

"Whatever. You can't hurt my scalp, so go nuts. How do you have a Pinterest, but I have to coach you on Instagram?"

"You don't have to interact with anyone on Pinterest. And I might have downplayed my knowledge of Instagram."

" _What_?!"

Beka looks sheepish when Yuri tilts his head back to glare at him. "It's for my DJ work. I didn't know if I was going to tell you about it at first, so I played a little dumb. I also have a twitter for under my DJ name."

Yuri looks back at the movie. "Oh. Okay. That makes sense."

Beka starts to separate Yuri's hair into sections. "Yeah. I love the DJ stuff, but I don't want to be known as that ice skater who DJs. I just want to be known for what I make. So I keep them pretty separate."

"I don't talk about books for the same reason. I need something that's mine, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

*

An hour later, the movie is over, the pig is finished, and Beka has tried three different braids on Yuri's hair, taking a picture of each one and sending it to Alina.

"She's jealous your hair is so fine," Beka tells Yuri. "Hers is pretty dense, so it doesn't always show the detail like yours does."

"Tell her she's lucky hers probably doesn't always end up flying into her mouth," Yuri replies. 

Beka chuckles as he types. "Pick the next movie."

Yuri gets up and considers the collection. He stretches, standing on his toes and reaching as high as he can. 

"How do you make that look so effortless?" Beka asks. 

"Huh?"

"When you stretch, it looks like it doesn't hurt at all."

"This isn't real stretching. You know that." Yuri holds up a movie, and Beka nods to okay it. "The real stuff hurts like hell sometimes."

"That's reassuring. You're not actually some sort of weird, supernatural ice-skating creature."

"You're hilarious."

"Thank you." Beka looks at his phone when it chimes. He chuckles. "Alina says she doesn't care if your hair gets in your mouth."

"Jealous," Yuri says, laughing. "Hey, you should check Instagram. See which one of us is winning."

Beka pulls a face. "I would rather not."

"I'll check." Yuri finishes switching movies and flops onto the couch. He opens Instagram and starts laughing. "Wow. Your fans are out in _force_. There are more comments from mine, but yours are going for blood."

"This is all so weird."

Yuri tosses his phone onto the coffee table and stretchs again. "Back to ignoring it, then." He starts the new movie and flops sideways, pulling his pillow over so it's under his head. Beka shifts too, resting his head on the arm of the couch, his pillow in his arms. He adjusts his legs so they're behind Yuri, his feet tucked behind the cushions. 

"That okay?"

"Yeah," Yuri replies. "Now shut up. I really like this movie."

Beka pulls one foot free so he can kick Yuri in the butt. Yuri picks up his pillow and swings blind, missing Beka by a wide margin. 

*

When Lilia walks in the door that evening, Beka and Yuri are both on the couch. They've got the comforter surrounding them like a nest, and Beka is braiding Yuri's hair as Yuri finishes the horn of a unicorn. "Is this all you did today?"

"We stretched again," Yuri says, not looking up from his stitching. 

She walks over and inspects Beka's work. "That is beautiful. You are talented."

"Thank you," Beka says. 

"We're still choosing Yuri's hair for next season. You should look through his costume book. You may be able to help us with ideas."

"I'd be happy to."

"Excellent." Lilia taps Yuri's shoulder, and he holds up the mostly finished unicorn for her to see. "For Viktor?" 

"Yeah."

"And what am I?"

Yuri shrugs, thinking of the shawl he still needs to start. Beka nudges him to keep still. "Don't know yet."

"I look forward to finding out. I'll start dinner."

*

"You don't have to help with my hair if you don't want to," Yuri says that night as he and Beka change for bed. 

"It sounds fun. I like seeing other people's ideas. I want to see your routine too. It might give me some ideas."

"All right. If you want." Yuri waits for Beka to get under the covers, then turns off the lights. He slips into bed on his side and turns to make sure his phone is plugged in. Potya jumps on the bed and settles on Yuri's shins. "Thanks," Yuri says after a few minutes of silence.

"You're welcome," Beka replies, and that's the last they say before they fall asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovelies get love, yet again: Templemarker, HugeAlienPie, and the-wordbutler.
> 
> Also, there is a factual inaccuracy I purposefully left in because it amused me. Note on that at the end.

Mila comes into the rink the next morning with three coffees in a carrying tray. She places them on a bench and refuses to look cowed when Yakov glares at her. "I know we all pretend like you don't see us sneaking the dairy and sugar into coffee, but really, Yakov."

"I would like one skater-- _just one_ \--who actually takes care of themselves during practice!"

"He probably shouldn't train Russians, then," Beka says in an undertone. Yuri spits out the drink of water he's just taken. His laugh gets harder when he realizes he's managed to douse the back of Yuuri's track jacket.

"What in the world?" Yuuri asks, taking off his jacket and shaking off the excess water. He gives Otabek and Yuri a confused look. "What are you two up to?"

"I think he choked," Beka says, dutifully thumping Yuri on the back.

It takes Yuri a full minute to get his laughter under control. Mila hands him his latte, and he manages to sputter a thank you. 

"How are your legs, Otabek?" Mila asks as she hands him his black coffee. "Viktor was telling me about your stretching practices."

"I'm certainly feeling it," Otabek replies. "I like the challenge, although I worry I won't survive the ballet lesson today."

"You'll be fine," Yuri says airily.

Mila gives Otabek a look that tells him she understands his concern. "What do you do when you're not skating?"

"I have a motorbike, and I spend time with my family. I'm close to my sister."

"You'd like her," Yuri interjects. 

Mila smiles. "Oh? Can she also lift you over her head?"

"She'd certainly try," Beka says.

"BACK ON THE ICE FOR EVERYONE DRINKING COFFEE!" Yakov yells. "THE REST OF YOU GET FIVE MORE MINUTES."

Yuri considers yelling that he's certain Katsudon is drinking coffee from his metal water bottle. When he glances at him, Yuuri is giving him a challenging look, almost like a dare to keep quiet. Yuri slams the rest of his latte and steps back on the ice without giving him up. 

*

Beka barely speaks during the ballet lesson. He allows Lilia to adjust his poses as he stares at the mirror, taking it all in. Yuri is further down the barre, testing a series of arm movements he and Lilia had just discussed. 

"No," Lilia says, and Yuri turns to look. She taps Beka's jaw with two fingers. "No clenching your jaw in ballet. On the ice, I can't stop you, but here, I do not allow unconscious muscle movement. Release it."

Yuri watches as Beka's jaw softens just barely. Beka's eyes are sharp as Lilia walks around him, adjusts his leg just so, demonstrates a flourish with her own hands. Yuri can't look away. _The eyes of a soldier_ he thinks as he watches Beka re-position himself. 

"Yura!" Lilia snaps, bringing him out of his thoughts. "You have been still for thirty seconds for no reason."

"Sorry," Yuri murmurs, and he stares himself down in the mirror as he starts over on his arm movements.

*

Viktor and Yuuri step quietly into the studio as Lilia finishes taking Yuri and Beka through their cooldown stretches.

"What do you want?" Yuri asks after Lilia has properly dismissed them. 

"Dinner!" VIktor announces. "Yuuri and I thought we would take you out!"

"We have plans, asshole," Yuri says. 

"We don't have dinner plans," Beka says.

"Traitor," Yuri hisses.

Beka shrugs. "I like them." He looks at Viktor. "Yuri was going to show me the library, and I'd still like to do that, but we can have dinner after."

"Oh, I love the library," Yuuri says. "If we wouldn't be imposing, we could just go with you."

"I could use a new book," VIktor adds. 

Yuri wants to tell them to fuck off, that the library is for _him_ , but even in his head he knows how silly that sounds. "You can come if Beka doesn't mind."

"I don't mind at all," Beka says. 

"I'll drive," Viktor offers. "We're parked right outside anyway."

"We have to shower," Yuri says, not quite ready to give up the fight. "And don't you have to check on your dog?" 

"Mila offered to go over and walk him," Yuuri replies. "He'll be fine until we get home."

"Whatever," Yuri says and stalks to the showers. He doesn't pull the curtain around to cover himself as he starts the water.

Beka comes in a few seconds later and starts the shower next to Yuri's. He doesn't pull the curtain, either. "I didn't ruin your plans, did I?"

"We were gonna go to the library, and we're still going. It's fine." Yuri ducks his head under the spray and lets the white noise of water rushing by his ears soothe him a little. He feels off-balance but doesn't know why. He steps back from the spray and reaches for his shampoo. 

"Yura?" Beka asks, and he looks worried when Yuri glances at him. "If it really bothers you that they want to come along, we can just tell them to forget it."

"It's not that," Yuri says, and he feels like it's true when he says it. "I don't know what it is," he admits quietly "I feel...weird."

"Okay." Otabek lathers up his hair and rinses. "If you figure out why, you can tell me."

"Yeah. Okay."

They finish showering and change into fresh clothes. When Yuri brushes his damp hair back from his face, Beka pushes him onto a bench and braids it for him.

"That looks really good," Yuuri says when they walk back into the studio. 

"I miss having long hair sometimes," Viktor sighs.

Yuri scowls. "I'm not you, old man."

"I was thinking the same," Viktor says. "I never had a friend to do my hair."

That weird feeling curls in Yuri's stomach again, and he swallows hard to clear it. He and Beka walk side-by-side in silence as they leave the studio. Viktor and Yuuri are ahead of them, holding hands as they lead the way to the car. 

Yuuri plugs his phone into the stereo port as soon as they're in the car, and the drive passes quietly, Viktor humming along with the songs. Beka looks out the window, taking in the scenery, and Yuri keeps looking at him, that weird feeling crawling up again when Beka smiles softly at something he sees. 

The weird feeling intensifies when Beka spots the library, and his eyes widen in awe. "I've only ever seen it from a distance," He says. "It's enormous."

"We Russians love history and books," Viktor says. 

"And they're just a bit ostentatious," Yuuri adds with a smile.

"It's beautiful," Beka says. He turns to Yuri, the smile on his face so bright that it doesn't look real. "This is great."

Yuri nods. "Sure is," he says, and he feels like an idiot when he hears his voice. 

Viktor parks, and they walk to the main entrance. Beka looks up the moment they step inside and doesn't look down as they walk through the foyer. Yuri grabs his wrist to keep him from stumbling into anything and lets him look his fill. 

"We'll meet you back here in thirty minutes?" Yuuri asks softly.

"Yeah," Yuri agrees. "We can come back on our own later," Yuri tells Otabek, who only nods absently in reply.

"I've never had a chance to come inside," Beka says to Yuri after a few moments. They've made their way into the main area of the first floor, and he still hasn't stopped looking upward. "The pictures don't do it justice. It's..." Beka looks away from the ceilings and the moldings and the carved reliefs and looks at Yuri straight on. His whole face is something Yuri has never seen before, soft beyond anything he's ever seen and so pleased. "This is you," Beka says. 

"What?" Yuri asks, feeling the shock in his bones. "What are you talking about? You sound crazy."

"No." Beka shakes his head, and the full force of his determination envelopes Yuri like he's feeling the air around himself as he spins. "It's aggressive and over-the-top, and it demands to be seen on its own terms." Beka looks around again as Yuri tries to catch his breath. "Show me your favorite spot."

Yuri leads him, his hand still around Beka's wrist, to a quiet corner far into the stacks. They're in the history section. Yuri stops in front of a shelf and touches a line of books. "Costume history," he says. "I like to come and just flip through the books, see what sorts of things people used to wear. I like to read why a costume was chosen."

Beka is silent as he takes a book from the shelf, pulling the book next to it halfway out to mark where it goes. He flips the pages slowly, stopping occasionally when Yuri touches his shoulder. "I've never done this," Beka says as he flips the last few pages and carefully replaces the book. "I don't think of things like this."

"Like what?"

"Costumes come from somewhere. What we wear now on the ice, we can trace it back. I know my costumes have called back to the history of the pieces I skate to, but I could only give you a rough sketch of how or why." He looks at Yuri. "You'll be in these books someday."

"Shut up," Yuri says, but it's a weak protest.

"You will," Beka says. "The mark you're already making…" He shakes his head. "This is amazing," he says, looking at the books again.

The weird feeling reaches a peak, and Yuri thinks he might throw up. He throws his arms around Beka instead and holds onto him, feeling foolish but not knowing what else to do.

"Hi," Beka murmurs, wrapping his arms around Yuri in return. "Did I do something?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know." Yuri presses his face into Beka's shoulder and feels simultaneously relaxed and terrified when Beka rests his chin on his head. "Having a friend is weird."

Beka chuckles quietly. "Is that what this is? Are you having feelings?"

Yuri sighs and tightens his hold on Beka. Beka tightens his grip as well. "Maybe? I feel strange. Like, even stranger than earlier."

"Hrrm." Beka ducks his head so his forehead is pressed to Yuri's shoulder. "Can I do anything?"

"I don't know." 

"Do you want to look through a few more books?"

"Okay."

Beka picks another book, and they sit in front of the shelf, shoulder-to-shoulder. Beka flips the pages again, slowly enough that Yuri has time to read captions or point out small details. They're halfway through another book when Yuri checks the time. "We need to head back to the front," he says, wishing they could stay longer. 

Beka stand and shelves the book. "Lead the way."

Yuri steps around Beka to do that but stops cold when Beka curls his hand around his. "What…"

"Is this okay?"

Yuri looks at their hands. Beka hasn't laced their fingers together, simply fitted his hand around Yuri's thumb and palm. Yuri squeezes, and Beka squeezes back. "This is good," he says, and they walk back through the library hand-in-hand.

If Viktor and Yuuri notice they're holding hands, they give nothing away. Viktor leads them to the car, chatting happily with Yuuri about the books he'd checked out. He's halfway through a mystery series that sounds tacky and melodramatic, and Yuri finds the way Yuuri drily riles him up about it to be genuinely funny.

They keep holding hands in the back of the car, and when they get to the restaurant, Beka follows Yuri out of his side so they don't break contact. When they get inside and get seated, Yuri excuses himself to the bathroom.

 **Yuri:** Help.

 **Mila:** What? 

Yuri stares at her response, trying to figure out what to say. _What does it mean if you hold hands with your best friend? Is it weird to feel like everything in the world will work out when holding hands with your best friend? Is your best friend trying to tell you something by holding your hand, or is he really just that comfortable and confident in himself?_

 **Yuri:** Nevermind. Fuck it. Not important.

He shoves his phone into his hoodie pocket and goes back to the table. 

Viktor is talking to Beka when Yuri gets back. The way he's moving, Yuri knows from a distance Viktor is talking about Beka's routine. When he sits down, Yuuri side-eyes Viktor and rolls his eyes. 

"I don't think you'll get a word in right now."

"When do I ever with him?" Yuri asks.

Yuuri grins. "Right?" He turns his phone so Yuri can see it. "Mari changed the curtains at the onsen."

Yuri looks at the photo. The curtains are green with a polka dot pattern. "Kind of old-fashioned," he says.

"She's trying to do a blended look, she says." Yuuri turns turns his phone back to himself and swipes a few times. "And Yukko just sent me this video."

Yuri takes the phone from Yuuri so he can see the video clearly. It's the triplets doing a choreographed routine on the ice. They don't do jumps, but they hop where there would be jumps, and Yuri is surprised he can still tell them apart. "Are they going to go for it?"

"They haven't decided. Yukko and Takeshi will support them if they want to try and get into skating properly, but so far they spend as much time judging all of our stats as skating."

Yuri grins, remembering the savage takedowns of skaters he'd heard them go off on when he was in Japan. "We should put them in front of JJ and watch him as they wreak havoc on his old programs."

Yuuri's eyes light up with mischief. "That could be fun."

Yuri thinks back to his conversation with Viktor about JJ being boring. "What do you think of JJ? Like, as a person?"

Yuuri considers the question, propping his head in his hand and looking into the middle distance. "I...don't?" he says after a few seconds. "I really only think of him as a competitor."

"You have no opinions on his personality?"

"Who are we talking about?" Beka asks suddenly, turning towards Yuri. He leans over a bit so his elbow is on the back of Yuri's chair, his arm brushing Yuri's shoulder. 

"JJ," Yuri says, surprised to discover the weird feeling doesn't climb back up at Beka's casual touch. "You think he's not bad. Viktor thinks he's boring. I think he's a douchebag. Yuuri, apparently, doesn't think about him."

"I can't see him, not really," Yuuri says. "Some personalities are so strong, my brain sort of filters them out. He's just this guy who is super confident and loud."

"He can be okay one-on-one," Beka says. Yuri gives him a betrayed look. Viktor and Yuuri chuckle at the reaction. "Think about it," Beka says to Yuri. "You're different one-on-one than you are around other skaters."

"DO NOT COMPARE ME TO JJ."

Beka pats Yuri's shoulder, and he can feel the sarcasm in it. "The fact you and he have a superficial personality trait in common isn't a comparison. It'd be like saying he and I had something in common because we have a similar haircut."

"Which one of you had it first?" Viktor asks.

"Oh, god," Yuuri mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

"I'm not sure," Beka says.

"Oh, thank goodness," Yuuri says. 

"I wouldn't have teased him _that_ much," Viktor says to Yuuri.

"I do not need to spend the rest of my skating career listening to JJ loudly talk about how Otabek clearly stole his haircut because he secretly respects him," Yuuri says. 

"I got it because I have a lot of hair," Beka says, his tone flat. "JJ has nothing to do with it."

Viktor snorts a laugh. "I wish I had that on video."

"I feel like we're being unfair," Yuuri says. "JJ's got as much if not more pressure than the rest of us. Talking about him like this isn't nice."

"Who cares?" Yuri says.

"But he's so _boring_ ," Viktor says at the same time.

"You have a point," Beka says over both of them. "He and I have had a few good conversations."

"Don't be noble," Yuri says. "If we're going to stay friends, you have to be petty."

"One of us has to be noble," Beka replies. "And I'm already good at it."

The server comes over before Yuri can reply, and they order their food. Viktor also orders a pitcher of beer for the table and smiles when the server brings over four glasses without being prompted.

"I don't know--"

"He's having one beer," Viktor interrupts Yuuri. "That's all any of us are having."

"When have you ever had one drink in an evening, Vitya?"

Yuri and Beka both laugh at the shocked look on Viktor's face. 

"Tonight," Viktor says with faux-importance. "I _am_ winning gold next year, after all."

He's drowned in a chorus of ribbing over which of the rest of them are going to win as many as possible so he finally has to experience a silver again.

"I did experience a silver recently!" he shouts over them all. He looks at Yuuri, and his whole body seems to soften. "It was wonderful."

"Drown me," Yuri orders Beka.

"Eat first. You'll sink faster."

*

Back at the apartment after dinner, Yuri flops onto the floor of his bedroom and sighs in comfort when Potya walks up his back and settles between his shoulders. "Did you have fun?"

"I did," Beka says. He's flopped on the bed, arms out on either side. "They're almost too much when they're romantic, but otherwise, they're fun."

"They've kind of grown on me," Yuri says. "They bugged the hell out of me running up to the GPF, but they're not as annoying now."

"They treat you like an adult." Beka rolls over so he can see Yuri's face. He reaches out and scratches Potya on the head. She shifts in her spot between Yuri's shoulders and purrs. "Well, kind of like a little brother, but not like a kid."

"That's pretty new. I'm sure they'll be over-enthusiastic and embarrassing at my competitions until they die."

Beka chuckles. "I mean, that's sort of them in general, though, right? Viktor seems to like everything, and Yuuri likes to encourage people."

"True." Yuri yawns and pillows his head on one arm. Beka's hand is still hanging off the bed. Yuri reaches for it and holds onto Beka's fingers. He wants to ask about the hand holding, but he isn't sure how. He squeezes Beka's fingers, and Beka squeezes back.

"Can I hear your program music?" Beka asks quietly.

"Yeah." Yuri stays put for another few seconds, looking at his and Beka's hands. Beka squeezes his hand again, and Yuri slowly drops his hand, their fingertips touching for a moment. "Grab Potya, will you? She'll dig in her claws if I try to get up while she's there."

Beka scoops up Potya, who twists in protest but settles as soon as Beka holds her to his chest. 

Yuri stands and grabs his laptop from his desk. He sits on the bed next to Beka and pulls up his music. "This is my short program," he says. 

Beka listens with his eyes closed, idly scratching Potya under the chin. When the music fades out, he stays that way for a few seconds. "It's different from _Agape_ , but there's a melodic connection. It's a good choice with your theme."

"This is my FP," Yuri says and taps the play button again.

Beka closes his eyes again, and Yuri keeps glancing at him. He prefers his FP music. It's still a modern piece, with a sharp bassline that appeals to him. It's not rock and roll, but it's easy to get there.

"Please tell me you're skating to the bassline," Beka says when it's finished. "It's perfect for the big jumps."

"That's what I thought, too. Yakov and Lilia agreed."

"Can I see the routines tomorrow? One-on-one, I mean. Not watching when I'm on break." Beka asks. He reaches out and pulls the hair tie from Yuri's braid. Potya meows in protest of no longer being petted. "I think maybe a mohawk braid for your FP, but I'd have to see you skate and make sure it would fit with your costume."

"If we stay after, I can do them, but I might fudge the jumps."

"That's fine. I just need the feel of them."

Yuri laughs and squirms when Beka starts to undo his braid and his hair tickles his neck. "I can't believe you're helping with my costume."

"I keep thinking about it, and it's fun," Beka says. "I texted Alina about it, and I gave her my Pinterest password so she can do searches for me. I told her to just pick anything she thinks look interesting, and she says she has a whole board already."

"Please tell me my name's not on it."

"She's calling it Tiger Hair. Her idea."

Yuri chuckles. "I like it."

*

The next day's practice is grueling. Yuri knows Beka will understand if he misses a step or falls when he performs, but he wants it to be as good as possible.

"Yura! Get off the damn ice!" Yakov calls five minutes after the mid-morning break has started. "I won't have you wipe out when you're supposed to be resting!"

"I'M FINE!" Yuri yells, not looking back to make eye contact. He's coming around towards the boards where he'd left his stuff, taking it slow to give himself a moment to breathe. Beka holds out his arm and catches Yuri around the waist. " _Hey_!" Yuri yelps. 

"Quit squirming," Beka says, calm as you please. 

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!"

"And don't yell in my ear." 

Yuri thumps him on the shoulder with the side of his fist. Beka's grip on his middle only tightens. "I could have fallen, you asshole."

Beka gives him a hard side-eye. "Bullshit. Come on. It's break."

Yuri gives up on trying to get away when Beka, using only the arm around his middle, bodily lifts him off the ice. "Ugh. Must everyone be stronger than me?"

"Only physically," Beka replies. He sets Yuri down on a bench and hands over his skate guards. "It's break," he says again.

"I don't always take break. Yakov yelling about things doesn't mean they're important."

"I know you don't believe that." Beka nods when Yuri snaps on his skate guards. "Thank you."

"I know my limits. I don't need you to babysit me."

"I'm not babysitting. I'm being a good friend. I know you want things to look as good as possible, but I've seen you land on your ass a lot this week. It'll be fine."

Yuri rubs his face with his sleeve to hide the embarrassed flush he can feel blooming. It feels okay in a weird way that Beka sees right through him. "I don't like messing up in front of people."

"I get it." Beka holds out his hand. "Come on. Sit with the rest of us."

Yuri takes Beka's hand without argument and lets him lead him around the rink to Viktor, Yuuri, Mila, and Georgi. He sits when Beka pulls him onto the bench and takes the Gatorade and protein bar Mila hands him. He manages not to hiss when Yuuri drops his workout jacket over his shoulders to help him retain heat.

"We were talking about going out tomorrow night or the night after," Mila says to Yuri. "We thought Otabek might like to see a club or two."

"It's fine with me," Beka says.

"Have you gotten a fake ID yet?" Mila asks Yuri.

"No," Yuri answers. He likes that Mila asks it as a foregone conclusion. 

"Why don't we all just go to dinner?" Yuuri asks.

Viktor hugs Yurri close with one arm. "Oh, my Yuuri. A fake ID is a tradition amongst us. I helped Mila and Georgi get theirs, and a skater older than me got me my first one. We're not going to get him drunk, just into a few places he has every right to be in."

"He's fifteen."

"Almost sixteen," Georgi says before Yuri can point out the same. "And he made it through senior debut, so he passes."

Yuuri looks around the circle and pauses at Beka. "I get the feeling this is a point where you're not the responsible type."

Beka shrugs. "I don't really have an opinion. Toronto has a lot of all-ages clubs . I've never needed one."

Yuri knows without asking that Beka had started going to clubs not to dance, but to DJ. It's odd to know someone so well, but it feels good at the same time. He leans his shoulder against Beka, and Beka presses back. "Besides, Katsudon, it's not like I don't know not to drink. _Someone_ traumatized me at my last junior banquet."

Yuuri goes bright red and presses his face into Viktor's shoulder. Georgi and Mila laugh. Viktor soothes Yuuri but throws Yuri a grin and a wink that tells him he appreciates the shot. 

Yuri looks at Beka to say something else, but Beka is looking at Yuuri, amused. "I couldn't believe it when I found out that was you," he says to Yuuri.

"Someone kill me. Just, take my skates and take me out," Yuuri says, his face still pressed into Viktor's shoulder.

Beka looks at Yuri. "And you _knew_?"

"You didn't?" Yuri asks. He glances over at Viktor and Yuuri. Yuuri has pulled his knees to his chest and seems to be laughing against Viktor's shoulder as Viktor says something in his ear. "Really? It's seared into my goddamn brain seeing it, and then it got seared a second time when it got all over social media. The Piggy and that pervert's fucking thong."

"We should have warned you about the thong," Georgi says, and Viktor nods ruefully. "It's an incredibly strange rite of passage."

Yuri whips his head to stare at Georgi. "WHAT." 

"Viktor and I were getting ready in his room for the banquet--was it three years ago?" Georgi waits for Viktor's nod. "And Chris walks in, clothes in one hand, champagne bottle in the other. Completely nude except for his thong and a pair of socks and those little sock suspenders."

"Garters," Mila supplies.

"Garters," Georgi agrees. "He'd taken the elevator like that. The champagne wasn't even _open_."

"I was talking to Sara at this year's banquet, and she told me Mickey screamed and tackled Chris when he saw him in the hallway like that. He was terrified Sara would get one look at him and jump him or something."

"Oh, Chris must have loved that!" Viktor says with a laugh. Yuuri has finally reappeared from his shoulder and still looks slightly embarrassed but like it's okay to be that way. "He loves riling up Mickey in the locker room. Mickey knows it means nothing, but he still worries Chris will suddenly kidnap Sara or something."

"They are so creepy," Yuri interjects.

"Mickey's creepy," Mila says, heat in her voice. "Sara's a total sweetheart. She's been trying to get some space between them for awhile. He's just...Mickey."

"Icky is more like it," Georgi says, and Mila laughs loudly.

"Why did no one warn me seeing Giacometti's ass is some sort of rite of passage?" Yuri asks, pulling the conversation back to where he'd lost it.

"As much as a show off slut as he is, he's never _stripped_ in a semi-public situation," Viktor says, "and certainly never at a banquet."

"Oh my god, Yuuri!" Mila looks delighted. "You were a bad influence on Chris!"

"I refuse to accept the blame for anything Chris chooses to do," Yuuri replies. "He had a pole. He was lying in wait, not innocently standing by."

"I was innocently standing by," Yuri grumbles, and that sends everyone into laughter.

"If it helps, I don't remember a second of it," Yuuri says. "Believe me, if I'd known what I was doing, none of it would have happened."

"I have never been happier to see someone so completely drunk," Viktor says, sounding absolutely delighted. "It was the gift that got me right here." He hugs Viktor and kisses his cheek. Yuuri blushes again, but he doesn't duck his head. He looks much more pleased than embarrassed. 

"How'd you find out about the whole thing, Otabek?" Mila asks. "You don't follow any of us on social media, do you?"

"JJ sent me five or six pictures and a couple of videos and a _lot_ of emojis. I didn't recognize Yuuri." Odtabek looks at Yuuri. "I'd never seen you outside a competition. You looked completely different."

"An ocean's worth of champagne will do that," Mila says.

"It wasn't that much," Yuuri protests.

"You don't remember. How would you know?" Mila replies with a sharp grin.

"I realized it was you when When Viktor and Chris mentioned it in Barcelona," Beka cuts in. 

"How could you not recognize my Yuuri?" Viktor asks, the tease heavy in his voice. Yuuri mumbles something that sounds very much like a threat under his breath.

Beka shrugs. "I was watching the other one."

" _Beka_!" Yuri shrieks without meaning to. Everyone except Beka breaks down in laughter. 

"I was," Beka says with a shrug. "You're a great dancer."

Yuri doesn't know what to say and finds himself laughing without meaning to. It feels good. It feels like he's laughing along with everyone else, and that they aren't laughing _at_ him but at the fact it's a very weird conversation.

"TWO MINUTES!" Yakov yells from the door of his office. "ALTIN, I WANT TO SEE YOUR FULL SP WHEN WE'RE BACK."

Beka waves to show he's heard. He stands, stretches, and removes the jacket he'd slipped on at the beginning of break.. "I should warm up," he says. 

"Come here," Mila says, grabbing Yuri's arm and pulling him over to the wall. "Stand there," she says.

Yuri stands in front of the grey wall and looks at her. "What are you doing?"

"Look pissed. Like you've been in line two hours and no one has had a helpful answer pissed."

Yuri scowls. "Hag--"

"Perfect." Mila snaps four pictures on her phone and waves him away. "I'll have your ID for you tomorrow. I just needed a picture for it."

"What's it cost?" Yuri asks, running his current expense report in his head. He's in the black, he knows, but he likes knowing exactly how far in the black.

Mila pokes his shoulder. "Nothing, you idiot. You don't pay for your fake ID around here."

"I can pay my own way," Yuri mutters.

"Trust me, Yura, if you want anything to drink at the clubs, you'll pay plenty. Rules are those of us old enough to get in on our own chip in for the new one. So, you just let us."

It makes Yuri itch under his skin, not paying his own way, but he's certain if he protests further, Mila will make sure he doesn't pay for his drinks, either. "Fine."

"Good." She tugs at the end of his braid and steps to the side before he can shove her away. "Tomorrow or the night after?" she asks. 

"You figure it out and text me. We don't have any hard plans."

Mila gives him a salute and walks off, texting. Yuri walks back to the edge of the rink and pauses before he takes off his skate guards. Otabek is doing warm-up laps in the next rink, lifting his arms so they're perpendicular to the ice, then lowering them slowly. It's a warm-up Yuri knows more than well, something he's been doing almost longer than he can remember. 

"Come here," Yakov says when Yuri moves to get on the ice. "I want your opinion."

"Did you get drunk during break?" Yuri asks, though he leans against the partition next to Yakov as he says it. 

"If you want control over your routines next season, you need to watch other people more," Yakov says. "There's always something to learn."

"I know that," Yuri replies.

"Then be quiet and learn something," Yakov replies. The hand he lays on Yuri's shoulder feels fatherly but also respectful. 

Yuri puts his attention on Beka. "Davai!" 

Beka gives him a grin as he takes his starting position. His left arm runs along his side. His right is positioned upward but curved. Yakov presses play on the iPod hooked into the portable stereo, and a piece of classical music begins to play. 

Yuri tries to watch Beka and take in the whole performance, but he finds himself noticing sections instead. A series of flowing arm movements that are Viktor's influence. A sharp turn before a jump that is clearly all Beka. His breath catches when Beka jumps into a triple axel and lifts an arm. He lands flawlessly. Lots of skaters raise their arm for the extra points, Yuri tells himself. Beka didn't get the idea from him.

Beka jumps a quad toe, arm up. He lands shakily but holds it.

"He holds his wrist like you," Yakov says quietly as Beka transition into a step sequence. "I don't know when you'll be out of Vitya's shadow, but you're already making a mark, Yura. You'll be the only one in the spotlight before you retire."

Yuri doesn't reply, but he does reach over and squeeze Yakov's forearm for a moment. Yakov pats him on the shoulder again, and Yuri knows they've come to an understanding. They both know he'll get there, and come hell or high water, they'll get there together.

*

"Do you want to get dinner before you show me your routines?" Beka asks that night. Everyone else has left, with the exception of Yakov, who is working in his office until Yuri and Beka are finished. He'd seemed pleased to know that Yuri was showing someone his routine. 

"I'd rather do it while I'm warm," Yuri says, stretching into a spread eagle as he moves in a lazy circle. 

"Which song is your music?" Beka asks, holding out Yakov's iPod.

"God, he will never organize this by skater," Yuri mutters as he scrolls down. The list is numbered, thankfully, so when he gets to the song for his short program, his free program is directly underneath it. "These two," he says, pointing.

"Do you have exhibition music yet?" 

"No. I've got some options, though. I could play them for you when we get back. You could tell me what you think works best."

"Are you going to be skating like you did at the GPF?"

"I want the same feeling but not the same effect." Yuri skates another spread eagle, then moves towards center ice. "I've never performed for you," he says over his shoulder. It feels weird."

"It'll be great. Remember, I just want the feel of it without distractions," Beka replies. He slots the iPod onto the stereo. "Just nod when you're ready."

Yuri takes his position. His left arm wraps around his right shoulder, and his right arm is curved behind his back. Lilia tells him he looks like a half-open flower, and Yuri won't ever tell her he likes the visual. 

He nods, and the music starts a moment later.

He doesn't forget that Beka is watching him, but he doesn't care. He has a routine. He has talent and skill and beauty. He puts his concentration on those things and lets them carry him. He falls at the end of a jump combo but gets up immediately, doesn't lose the beat. He finishes with his left arm raised up halfway, his elbow even with his upraised chin. His right arm is fully extended to the wrist, his hand curled up like the very largest petal on a stem.

Beka hands him his water bottle when he skates over. "You're determined to make the rest of us prove our jump skills," he says.

Yuri shrugs. "I like jumps. They're half the point of skating, right?"

"I'm never going to move like you," Beka says. It's not self-deprecating, just a statement. 

"Everyone keeps wondering when I'll move like Viktor," Yuri says, pulling a face. "Commentators keep waiting for me to 'soften up'".

"Never." Beka holds his arms in an approximation of Yuri's final pose. "You make it...defiant somehow. It's a dare to people who want to make you his shadow. It's a threat. You'll go even farther than they're comfortable with to show yourself as you are. Viktor's never skated like you."

"Do you practice saying this shit?" Yuri asks without meaning to.

"What shit?"

"This." Yuri waves his hands, taking in Beka, himself, and all the air in between. "You...compliment me, and it's like you practiced some flowery shit before hand."

Beka looks amused. "It's just how I talk, I guess. Although, I did consider not telling you that you had the eyes of the soldier."

Yuri has to bite the inside of his lip so he doesn't blurt out that it's one of the most important things anyone has ever said about him or that he thought the same of Beka during ballet. "I don't mind," he says instead. "I just wanna be prepared for when you say poetic fuckery."

"Do I need to sign a document promising I usually speak in poetic fuckery?" Beka asks. His whole face has gone soft with his smile.

"If your fans ever find out how much you smile, the world will end," Yuri replies.

Beka looks shocked, then chuckles. "I don't mean to seem so stoic, honestly. It's just how my face is. I get it from my grandfather, apparently. My mom says we're similar."

"I like it. I know you mean it when you smile."

Beka's eyes go bright. "Talking about poetic fuckery."

"That is nowhere near as bad as the shit you say," Yuri replies. He shoves at Beka's shoulder, then skates backwards before Beka can return the gesture. He moves to center ice and poses himself. Beka starts the music before he nods, and Yuri likes that he doesn't have to. 

His free program curls around him the same as his short. He knows Beka is there, but he doesn't care so much. It's about the jumps, the glide to the step sequence, the tilt of his head as he comes into his final position.

"I'm taking gold from you at some point," Beka says when Yuri skates to the wall again. "But it's going to be by the skin of my teeth."

"Fucking bring it," Yuri replies with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Templemarker pointed out that fake IDs are very much an American sort of thing, but I enjoy the bullshit tradition I created enough to decide to keep it. Russians (and the rest of the world) are way more chill about teenagers drinking, apparently.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love to the lovelies (HugeAlienPie, Templemarker, and the_wordbutler) for their continued cheering on this monster.

"I look pissed off," Yuri says when Mila hands him his shiny new fake ID.

"You're supposed to look pissed off," Mila responds. "It makes you look older."

"Thanks," Yuri says, digging his wallet from his duffel so he can slip the ID in it. "What time tonight?"

"Georgi and I will pick you up at 21:00. Viktor's going to try to sweet-talk Yakov into letting us all have tomorrow off."

"Good fucking luck," Yuri replies. "We're all going to be hungover and puking on the ice."

Mila shrugs. "If he doesn't get it, we won't get shitfaced and just be tired tomorrow."

"I can do that," Yuri agrees.

*

Viktor--and Yuri really has to find out what secrets he has on Yakov--secures them a half-day practice, starting at 13:00 the next afternoon.

"Is he actually a unicorn?" Beka whispers to Yuri when Viktor announces this at the lunch break.

"If he is, I'm selling his blood on the black market," Yuri replies.

*

Yuri stares at his closet for a long time after his post-practice shower. Lilia had made them dinner, pointedly telling them that if they appeared hungover when they show up the next afternoon, they would get double stretching practice for their folly. Beka had been solemn in his agreement to be responsible, but he'd tapped his foot against Yuri's under the table, and Yuri knows he'll take the punishment if the night goes that way. 

"Leggings?" he asks without looking over at Beka. It's an hour before Mila picks them up. He still has some time to decide, but Beka's already dressed, and Yuri feels weird just standing there in his boxer briefs.

"Jeans or something like it," Beka replies. "You never know when a mosh pit is going to break out."

Yuri walks to his dresser and opens the bottom drawer. He flips through his jeans, then pulls a pair of pleather trousers from the bottom of the pile. He slides them on and turns to Beka for approval.

Beka looks him over for a moment. "Those are gonna get super warm."

"Yeah, but they're not gonna stain if anyone spills their drink," Yuri argues. Beka nods in agreement, so Yuri buttons and zips them. 

"Something loose on top," Beka says as Yuri walks back to his closet. "Try to give your skin some room to breathe."

Yuri considers the wide range of his shirts before selecting an over-large tank top. It's bright blue with yellow tiger faces printed in stripes. He tosses it on and turns for Beka to see it.

Beka laughs, but it's a laugh of approval. "Where did you get that?"

"Online, I think," Yuri says. He sits and pulls on socks, then his combat boots. He hasn't been to a club before, but he knows enough to know his feet need the best protection he can offer them. "I was gonna do some eye makeup. You want to?"

"I don't know how," Beka says.

Yuri grabs his makeup case from under his nightstand and puts it on the bed. "I could do it for you. I'm gonna do a whole thing, but you could just do eyeliner if you wanted."

"I'm up for anything," Beka says. "Do whatever."

Yuri does his own makeup first, going for something similar to his exhibition skate look from the GPF. The purple looks good with the blue and yellow on his top, he thinks. He also does a bit of contour on his jaw and uses the lightweight mascara that lengthens his lashes without making him feel like he's wearing tar.

"What do you think?" he asks, looking at Beka.

"I feel like I just watched a magic show," Beka replies. He chuckles when Yuri gives him a dirty look. "In a good way. I don't use a lot of makeup when I'm performing. Usually just foundation and a color corrector for the lights."

"You need color corrector?"

"The lights weren't built with people of certain skin tones," Beka says. "After a certain point into brown, they can make you look sallow. Leo has to use it in some rinks, and I don't know about Phichit, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"That's shitty."

"I know," Beka replies. 

Yuri sorts through his makeup, looking for something he thinks will best complement Beka. He finds a dark gray shadow near the bottom of his unorganized palettes and digs out his favorite black liner. "I know skating is pretty fucking racist. Tumblr's all over it, and it showed me a lot of stuff I hadn't realized. But the _lights_?"

"Designed by people who expected only certain people to be under them."

"God, that fucking sucks." Yuri turns towards Beka, eyeshadow in one hand, eyeliner in the other. "I'd trip and let you win gold just to show them if it wouldn't be insulting."

Beka grins. "Thanks," he says. "But you'd never trip on purpose."

Yuri breathes out hard, wishing he could fight someone right now, but he knows that's how it works. 

*

Mila texts five minutes after their makeup's done. Lilia doesn't let them leave the house until she's certain they have their IDs and cash for cab fare, and she makes them each chug a glass of water.

"We're not stupid," Yuri says as he clunks his glass back on the counter.

"The most famous of all last words," Lilia replies. "I am not trying to stop the hurricane, merely reinforce the shutters."

Beka laughs into the last of his water and coughs all the way down the stairs. Mila is waiting next to Georgi's car. "Holy shit," she says, and Yuri isn't surprised she's staring at Beka. "You let Yuri do your eyes, didn't you?"

"Yes," Beka replies.

"Any chance you want to make out in a dark corner as soon as possible?"

Beka chuckles. "No."

"Damn," Mila replies.

"You're such a slut," Yuri tells her as he and Beka get in the backseat.

"I like to know all my options," Mila replies. 

"Maybe you'll meet a nice girl tonight," Georgi says. 

Mila gives a deep sigh. "Maybe."

"What?" Yuri says. "Since when are you into girls?"

"Forever?" Mila says with a shrug. She turns to look at Yuri. "You bitch about me talking about my break-ups but never noticed some of them were women?"

"I wasn't listening because I don't care," Yuri replies.

Mila laughs and turns back to face front. "Well, I like girls as much as I like guys. Girls are the best."

"Girls are amazing," Georgi replies, and they start to compare notes in a way that tells Yuri they do this a lot.

"I'm gonna be sick before I ever get a drink," he says to Beka.

"Aim it out the window. I like these trousers."

*

Viktor and Yuuri are waiting outside the club when Georgi pulls up. Turns out Viktor's still as famous as he's always been, and with a smile and an autograph for the bouncer, they're let in the door without having to wait in the long line. The bouncer checks the IDs and pauses on Yuri's. 

"You got gold at GPF," he says. "And Nationals."

"You've got me confused with someone else," Yuri replies, making himself stay relaxed.

The bouncer looks him up and down, then looks at his ID again. "You're right. Different first name. Sorry." He holds out the slip of paper Viktor has already signed.

"No problem," Yuri replies, adding his own signature and following everyone else when the bouncer waves them in.

Georgi bursts out laughing the moment the door closes behind them. "Oh my god, I've never done this with someone so well-known who wasn't of age."

"Just for that whole show, your first drink is on me, Yura," Mila says. 

Yuri glances at Yuuri, feeling like he needs his approval for a reason he can't place. Yuuri is smiling and shaking his head. "Your bravado will get you through anything," he says, grinning wide.

Yuri feels himself grinning in return. "Beer," he says to Mila, "and whatever Beka wants because I said I'd buy his drinks."

"You don't--"

"Vodka?" Mila says over him. 

"Beer," Beka says even louder. Mila waves a hand to show she's heard and walks to the bar. 

Yuri takes in the club while he waits for Mila to return. The music is all bass, and the dance floor is half-full of people. Most of them are just grinding on each other, but some are moving more to the beat. Yuri likes the way the bass makes the floor vibrate and the way the lights on the dancefloor never stay still.

"Here!" Mila says, returning with beers. She's balanced three in her hands, and Georgi is behind her, carrying three more. "To new routines!" she says, holding her beer high.

"To wins for all of us," Yuuri adds.

"To me kicking all your asses," Yuri says.

"To me kicking your ass," Beka replies.

They clink their glasses and take a long drink. Mila walks to a nearby table meant for eight and somehow sweet-talks two men into giving it up for her and her five male friends. As soon as the table is secure, Viktor takes Yuuri's glass, places it on the table next to his own, and pulls Yuuri onto the dance floor.

"I'm not looking," Yuri says to Beka. "Tell me if either of them start to get naked."

"I refuse to discover that for myself," Beka replies. He grins when Yuri laughs. "You feel good?"

"I feel great," Yuri says. He looks around the club again. He can't help but pick out Viktor and Yuuri in the crowd. They're dancing close, but they're not just grinding like some people. "This is gonna be a good night."

"I agree," Beka says. When he holds up his glass, Yuri taps his own against it.

*

They have two beers at the first club, then Georgi suggests a different place, and they leave as a crowd. Viktor takes Yuri and Beka in his car with Yuuri and follows Georgi to the next spot. The bouncer there barely glances at their IDs. He's too busy staring at Mila, who leans forward and gives him a kiss on the cheek while the guys walk inside ahead of her.

"God, hetero bouncers are so easy," she says as she adjusts her cleavage. "He didn't even go for a grope."

"Kill me," Yuri says.

"Buy me a drink," Beka replies.

Yuri goes up to the bar and does just that. While he's waiting for the beers, a man approaches. He's wearing dark wash jeans and a white shirt a size too small, though he's fit enough to pull it off. 

"I'm happy to pick up your tab if you dance with me," the man says.

Yuri gives him his best withering look."I'm with people," he replies. The bartender sets down the beers, and Yuri hands over his card. "Open tab," he says. He points at the guy who's just made a move. "He's not on it."

The bartender looks amused. "Got it," he says. 

"Well, that's unfriendly," the man says.

"Fuck you," Yuri replies. He picks up the beers and carries them back to the table that Mila has, again, wrangled from other people. He sets a beer in front of Beka, and they tap the glasses together again before they drink.

"Dance?" Beka asks. 

Georgi is still at the table, kept company by a pretty blonde woman who seems genuinely interested in whatever he's saying. "Gonna dance," Yuri hollers at him to be heard over the music.

"Have fun," Georgi says.

Beka leads the way to the dance floor, his wider frame better for parting the crowd. He chooses a spot to the right of center and seems to take the music in through his skin before he starts to move. Yuri watches him for a few seconds before joining along and matching his movements. 

"You should skate to shit like this," Yuri hollers in Beka's ear when Beka steps close and skims his hands over Yuri's sides. 

"I want to, but I couldn't pull it off--too many traditionalists at home," Beka replies. "Especially in the Skating Federation." He slides forward, hips first, when Yuri moves in closer. 

"Sucks."

"I like my routines." Beka steps back a few inches and raises his arms, twisting his torso at the same time and creating a sharp, angled line in the pulsing lights behind him. 

Yuri puts his hands behind his neck and undulates from his hips. The bass line feels like it lives in his rib cage, and he shifts with it, dipping down low and then coming up on his toes. He feels someone step up behind him and steps closer to Beka to avoid getting grabbed.

Beka steps in closer to him as well, one hand light at Yuri's waist for a moment as they move together. 

"Oh, don't hog him!" A voice calls over the music, and Yuri stiffens when he recognizes it as the guy from the bar.

Beka sees the look on his face, and his hand goes back to Yuri's waist. "I'm not," he replies, his voice dangerous. "He doesn't want to dance with you."

"I wanna hear him say it," the guy says.

Yuri spins on his heel and stares the guy down. "Fuck. Off."

The guy laughs and casually flexes his pecs. "I bet you'll change your mind about me."

Yuri lifts up his right leg, plants his foot with his toes on the guy's sternum, and shoves him as hard as he can. The guy falls on his ass. Beka grabs him by the hips so he doesn't waver. "IS THAT CLEAR ENOUGH YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE?" Yuri yells, loud enough for the people near them to stop and stare.

The guy looks up from the floor, livid. He jumps back up, posture screaming he's ready for a fight, then pauses when he realizes there are a dozen people watching. "You won't always be pretty," he says.

"At least I am now," Yuri replies.

The guy sputters, looking for a comeback. Viktor and Yuuri walk up behind him, each of them clapping him on a shoulder.

"You're done," Viktor says, his voice dark in a way Yuri has never heard it.

The guy protests, but Yuri can't make sense of what he says because Yuuri slaps a hand over his mouth and says something into his ear that makes the man look terrified.

"Wanna keep dancing?" Beka asks after the man has disappeared into the crowd and the people around them have gone back to their own dancing.

"Yeah," Yuri says, and he and Beka dance to the next four songs in a row.

"You okay?" Beka asks as they leave the dance floor. His left hand is spread wide along Yuri's back. 

"Yeah. Douchebags are douchebags." He means it, and he can feel in the flex of Beka's hand that he believes him.

"There you are!" Mila yelps when they come back to the table. "Oh my god, you missed it!"

"You mean Viktor and Katsudon dragging a gross asshole away from me? Because I had a front row seat," Yuri says. He looks at Yuuri and Viktor. "Thanks."

"Of course," Yuuri replies. Viktor beams like he's just medalled.

"Not that," Mila says. "The part where Yuuri _threw him_."

"What? Hag, you're so drunk, you're hallucinating."

"She's not," Georgi says, turning his phone to show Yuri and Beka a video that clearly shows Yuuri picking up the gross asshole by the back of his shirt and flinging him out the front door of the club while the bouncer looks on with approval.

"What the fuck," Yuri says. He stares at Yuuri for a moment. "What the fuck."

"Apparently, that guy is a creep a lot, so the bouncer let me do the honors."

"I mean, how do you know how to throw a guy?" Yuri clarifies. 

Yuuri shrugs like it's nothing. "There were guys who'd get creepy on Phichit when we'd go out in Detroit. Tossing someone out a door isn't difficult when you understand basic physics."

Yuri gapes for a moment. "That is the nerdiest fucking shit I have ever heard, Piggy."

Everyone laughs. When they leave the club an hour later, Yuri pulls at Yuuri's shirt hem so they fall into step. "Thanks," he says. 

"We're always here for you, Yura," Yuuri says. "All of us." He gives Yuri a one-sided hug that Yuri doesn't try to fight off. "It took me a long time to see the love around me. I hope you see it sooner."

"You fucking sap." Yuri yelps when Yuuri presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

"You don't know the half of it," Yuuri says and steps forward to walk next to Viktor. 

*

The next bar is more mellow. There's music, but it's not just a thumping bass line. Georgi buys a round for the table, and they sit and drink and chat through their beers. 

"Can you waltz?" Beka asks Yuri as the band switches to something in a 3/4 beat.

"Of course," Yuri replies.

They waltz together, Beka leading with his hand warm at Yuri's lower back. Yuri laughs when Beka spins him then pulls him in close again. 

"You don't spin in a waltz," Yuri says.

Beka shrugs. "We're skaters. We spin in everything."

When they come off the dance floor, Mila pulls Beka back on for a foxtrot, and Yuri finds himself being led around the floor by Viktor in an unsurprisingly showy box step. 

Two dances later, Yuuri and Viktor clear the floor for a Paso Doble that Yuri looks away from as people fucking scream on the sidelines. 

"Showoffs," Georgi says, and buys the rest of them a round of shots.

"I'm having banquet flashbacks," Yuri says to Beka.

"I don't evny you," Beka replies, and Yuri lets him buy another set of shots for the two of them.

*

When they get back to the apartment, they're tipsy but not drunk. They are genuinely quiet as they let themselves in and remove their shoes. Yuri opens the fridge to find carbs and discovers Lilia's left a container of macaroni salad front and center on the top shelf. Yuri grins, grabs the container and two forks, and he and Beka tiptoe to his room to drink them. It's 2:12, according to Yuri's phone.

"That was great," Beka says in a whisper as they sit side-by-side on the bed and demolish the food.

"Yeah," Yuri agrees. 

When they finish eating, Yuri takes the empty container back into the kitchen and fills it with soapy water so Potya won't try to drink from it. When he gets back to his room, Beka's stripped down to his underwear and dead asleep on his side of the bed. Yuri peels out of his clothes and drops next to him, asleep before he can decide if he wants to pull up the blanket.

*

The rest of Beka's visit passes in sheer routine. They practice, and they go out in the evenings to see the city. They go back to the library a lot. Beka gives up on teaching Yuri to braid; every time Yuri tries, he just ends up with a mess. On the last night Beka is in town, Yuri curls up next to him and doesn't say anything when Beka wraps his arms around him.

"This has been great," Beka says after several minutes of them simply hugging each other. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Yuri replies. 

They pull apart to fall asleep, but Yuri isn't surprised to wake up and find himself holding hands with Beka. He wonders which of them did it, but he doesn't ask. 

*

**Beka:** My mom doesn't approve of your fake ID, but she approves of how you handled that asshole.

**Beka:** She is currently encouraging Alina to do more leg exercises so she can also kick a man down.

**Beka:** My dad is now standing as a practice dummy so Alina can learn how to kick.

Yuri: Toes on the sternum, push from the hip.

Beka sends a picture of his dad flat on his back and laughing. 

**Beka:** She nailed it.

*

**Yuri:** Fuck. I never had you listen to my exhibition choices.

**Beka:** Make a Yandex.Music list and share it with me.

**Yuri:** Duh. Right.

**Beka:** Mila never shared those pictures of you, either.

**Yuri:** Fuck. What did we do all week?

*

**Beka:** We got another package from my fans.

**Yuri:** You need to Skype?

**Beka:** ...no? 

**Yuri:** I can get on Skype in ten seconds.

**Beka:** No. I think it's okay. Alina is livid and typing out a post on the main forum explaining invasion of privacy and how creepy people are being.

**Yuri:** You're about to have your first flame war. They'll infight for awhile about who is right and wrong about where the line is. They'll fracture into factions, smack each other in the press, and not print retractions.

**Beka:** That's a Hamilton reference! I just listened to it.

**Yuri:** Yeah, I've been listening to it. It's good. 

**Yuri:** But, seriously, this will probably cause a split, especially if Alina doesn't step back into it and attempt to clarify anything she says.

**Yuri:** Let them break apart themselves, and you'll get a break for a little while.

**Beka:** But they're gonna reform?

**Yuri:** They always reform, but they'll be less of them to be creepy at you.

**Beka:** That's...something.

**Yuri:** Yeah.

*

**Beka:** Which braid do you like best?

**Yuri:** Third one.

**Beka:** Second best?

**Yuri:** First.

*

**Yuri:** Hag. You never sent my worst pictures to Beka.

**Mila:** In my defense, you make a lot of stupid faces, and I had to make a whole folder.

**Yuri:** Fuck you.

**Mila:** Sent you both the link. 

**Mila:** Fuck yourself.

*

**Beka:** You make so many terrible faces.

**Yuri:** Fuck yourself.

**Beka:** Have you considered a single resting bitch face? Because you have a dozen.

**Yuri:** FUCK

**Yura:** YOURSELF

*

**Yuri:** Ugh. I hate all my exhibition music.

**Beka:** Sorry I couldn't help. None of it was quite right.

**Yuri:** Maybe I need to find some new bands.

**Beka:** I'll look around, too.

*

**Beka:** Mohawk braid how-tos for Lilia.

**Yuri:** I'll send them to her. 

*

**Beka:** There's a band called The Dismemberment Plan I just found.

**Yuri:** Yeah?

**Beka:** Cult-following sort of band. Been around for awhile, but they're interesting. Listen to this. It's called "Gyroscope".

**Yuri:** The fuck. The beat keeps changing.

**Beka:** Your exhibition skate.

**Yuri: …**

**Yuri:** HOLY FUCK

**Beka:** I'll cut it for you if you want. Wanna pull out the lyrics; they're not right for how you skate.

**Yuri:** BEKA HOLY FUCK

**Beka:** Taking that as a yes. Give me a week.

*

**Beka:** Tracking says your birthday gift arrived. Did you open it?

**Yuri:** I've been staring at it for five minutes.

**Beka:** I'm taking that as a good sign.

**Yuri:** It's fucking epic. Thank you.

**Beka:** You're welcome.

*

**Yuri:** See you in Boston, right?

**Beka:** Yeah. Wanna sight see if we have time?

**Yuri:** Sure.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love as always to the squad for their love of this fic.

Yuri loses track of days as he completes his final prep for Worlds. Yakov wants him in Boston two days early to get used to the time change before he performs, and Yuri nearly shouts in triumph when Beka texts him that his coach wants the same.

"I want gold," Yuri tells Yakov the day before they leave. They're watching Yuuri work his Free Program while Viktor makes corrections. 

"You'll have to fight for it," Yakov replies. "But that's never stopped you."

*

Yuri goes to dinner with Viktor and Yuuri the night before they leave for Worlds. It's Viktor's idea, and Yuri demands the chance to go home and change before they leave.

"Here," he says after they've placed their orders. He tosses the pig he made to Yuuri and the unicorn to Viktor. "For luck or whatever."

Viktor squeaks with delight and immediately starts combing out the unicorn's striped mane. Yuuri smiles at the pig and makes it walk across his bread plate. 

"Thank you," Yuuri says. "This is nice of you."

"I got bored when I bruised myself, so I picked up a hobby," Yuri says. "It's nothing."

"It's very creative," Viktor says. "Are you making them for everyone?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Yuri curls into his hoodie. "Like, they're not difficult. It's not a big deal."

Yuuri touches Viktor's shoulder when Viktor opens his mouth to say something else. "Thank you, Yura. We like them."

"Yes," Viktor agrees, giving Yuuri a quick side-eye. "They're very nice."

"Do you have anything you want to see when you're in Boston?" Yuuri asks, and the conversation stays away from Yuri's new hobby for the rest of the night.

*

Boston is cold in a different way from Russia, and Yuri tucks himself in, arms crossed across his torso, when they step out of the airport and Yakov hails a cab. The rest of the senior division is with them, but Viktor separates them into pairs and trios for cabs. 

"You're giving him too much power," Yuri says to Yakov as they walk to their cab.

Yakov scoffs. "He wants to be a coach, he can do the grunt work."

The hotel has a huge and impersonal lobby absolutely full of other skaters. Yuri is surprised when Leo walks up to him and holds out his hand. "We've never met," he says, "but I've been watching you a long time, and Otabek said you two are friends."

"We are," Yuri agrees. He shakes Leo's hand on autopilot. "He said he knows you." He wants to throw himself on his skate blades as soon as he registers what he's said, but Leo is grinning and patting him on the back like it's not the insult it sounds like to Yuri's ears.

"That's a really good way to put it. I'm happy to be better friends with him if he wants to be, but he carves out his own thing, I guess."

"We should get dinner," Yuri says before he can stop himself. He doesn't miss Yakov in his peripheral, turning swiftly to stare at him. "All my rink mates are older than me."

"That sounds great!" Leo pulls his phone from his pocket. "I'll talk to Guang Hong and Seung-gil and see what they're doing. Do you know Phichit?"

"Not really, but I know Katsu-ki," Yuri replies, barely catching himself. "I can get Phichit's number from him if you don't have it."

"Awesome." Leo beams at him. "What's your number?"

Yuri rattles it off, and Leo enters it into his phone with the ease of a guy who has a lot of international friends. Yuri's phone chimes in his pocket ten seconds later.

"That's me," Leo says. "So you can have my number."

"Thanks."

"YURI!" Yakov calls, louder than necessary, but Yuri is grateful for it. "Come on!" He waves the room keys.

"I'll get a group text going," Leo says. "Maybe go out after the free program?"

"Sure." Yuri half-heartedly returns the wave Leo gives him. He walks over to Yakov and matches Yakov glare for glare. "What."

"Do not get distracted. You have gold to win."

"I'm not distracted," Yuri says.

*

 **Yuri:** Room 1347. You?

 **Beka:** 1519\. Sharing with a rinkmate. You?

 **Yuri:** Alone.

 **Beka:** Heading to you.

*

"I figured you got your own room at GPF because you booked before Katsuki and Viktor were coming. How'd you get it this time?" Beka asks. They're stretched out on Yuri's bed, head-to-toe. Yuri has his left leg pulled up to his ear. Beka is looking at something on his phone.

"Part of my bargain for the season. Yakov and Lilia get final say in my routines, but I get my own room."

Beka chuckles. "I need to win a gold medal soon, see if I can leverage like that."

"Once you've got it, it's easy." Yuri lowers his left leg and maneuvers his right into position. "You're in the group text for Leo, right?"

"Yeah. We ran into each other on my floor. He's down the hall from me. He's excited he got your number."

"Why?"

"He wants to have everyone hang out. He wants everyone to be friends. I think it's an American thing."

"Sounds like it," Yuri agrees.

*

By draw, Yuri is third in the short program. Leo and JJ have drawn the spots before him. Beka and Yuuri are a few spots after him. 

"You sure you're ready for this, Yurio?" JJ asks. "You're really up against the real talent now."

"If you ever call me Yurio again, I will slice every tendon in your legs," Yuri replies, and he's pleased when JJ looks terrified. 

"I thought--"

"Clearly, you didn't," Yuri replies. 

JJ looks around for help. He settles on Leo. "Come on, tell him I'm not so bad."

"You're not so bad," Leo agrees, "but that doesn't mean you get to use his nickname."

In that moment, Yuri decides he likes Leo.

*

"Davai," Beka says from the rink wall. He's already in his costume, his track suit over it. He holds out his fist, and Yuri taps it with his own.

"Davai," Yuri replies and skates to center ice. 

His short program goes as well as it possibly can. He lands his jumps. His step sequence is flawless. He knows the complicated braid plays up the fine arch of his cheekbones and feeds into the sense of growth he's aiming for in his theme. 

He stares in disbelief when Katsudon beats his score by two tenths of a point. "Fuck me," he mutters when the numbers come up. He keeps his face impassive because he knows the cameras are searching for him. There are two skaters on before Beka, so he ducks into the locker room and finds Yuuri.

"The fuck."

Yuuri grins at him. "I'm as surprised as you."

Yuri shakes his head and glances around. They're mostly alone. Viktor is watching them, but everyone else is watching the feed on the television. Yuri ducks in and grabs Yuuri in a hard hug. He pulls away before Yuuri can return it. "Not bad for a pork bowl," he says.

"Thanks," Yuuri replies.

*

Yuri is leaning on the rink wall when Beka steps up to remove his skate guards and take his position on the ice. "Davai," Yuri says, holding his fist out.

"Davai," Beka replies, tapping his fist against Yuri's. 

Beka ends up four tenths of a point lower than Yuri, and Yuri is tempted to tackle him at the kiss and cry because his skate had been fucking mindblowing.

He hangs back instead, going back to the locker room to strip out of his costume and let down his hair while Beka talks to reporters and the next skater takes the ice.

"What'd you think?" Beka asks when he finds him in the locker room. 

"Holy shit, Beka," Yuri replies. He hides his grin in Beka's shoulder when Beka pulls him into a quick hug. "I'm still going to win."

"We'll see," Beka replies. He pulls away and he's not smiling, but he looks content. "Dinner?" he says. "Just me and you?"

"Sure," Yuri replies.

*

They attempt to goad each other into violating their on-season diets with fast food but end up at a higher-end restaurant that will clearly serve them grilled fish and vegetables. The hostess looks surprised when they request a table. Yuri wonders if it's their age or their accents.

"If you're 21, you can sit at the bar. They serve the full menu. Otherwise, it's a twenty-minute wait."

"We'll wait," Otabek says. "The name is Altin."

"Altin," the hostess replies and gives them a generic smile. "We'll call your name."

"It is completely unfair that part of your name is easily pronounceable," Yuri says after they've stepped away from the hostess. He speaks in Russian, not wanting the hostess to hear him complaining.

"It definitely makes things easier in the States," Beka agrees, also in Russian. "Americans can't pronounce anything."

Yuri snorts in amusement. "They can say cheese in five different languages."

Beka grins. "They can pronounce foods. Congratulations to them, I guess."

They get seated in fifteen minutes. They both order the grilled fish and vegetables with water to drink. As they eat, they talk in Russian. 

"I should learn Kazakh," Yuri says as they're waiting for the server to clear their plates and bring the check. "It seems unfair you're always having to speak Russian."

"I'm used to Russian," Beka replies. "It's not a burden."

"I could still learn," Yuri says. 

"It would be nice to hear it outside of Almaty," Beka concedes. "I don't know if the how-to books are any good, though."

"We could email."

"You send me a letter in Russian, and I could reply in Kazakh with some Russian translation."

"That puts a lot of work on your end," Yuri says, making a face.

"Well, it's my language, and I don't mind. I don't write Russian a lot, so it'd be good practice."

Yuri feels himself scowl. "I feel like you do a lot for me."

"Do I?" Beka shakes his head. "I don't feel that way. I feel like things are pretty equal."

Yuri thinks about his complaint. "I dunno. You just seem to have to walk me through a lot of stuff."

"I like doing that. You're willing to listen and consider new information."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, you willingly gave your number to Leo. You're reaching out on your own."

"It was less about being willing and more about being sort of shocked he approached me."

"Yeah, he's like that."

"Americans," Yuri says with all the false scorn he can manage.

"Americans," Beka agrees in a similar tone.

*

"Davai," Beka says before Yuri skates his Free Program.

"Davai," Yuri replies, and fist bumps him.

*

Yuri pushes himself as hard as he can in his Free Program and ekes out a lead from Katsudon, who whoops when the scores go up. 

"Amazing!" Yuuri says, grabbing him in a hug as a he leaves the kiss and cry. "Your landings were so sharp!"

"I know," Yuri replies. "I don't practice to waste time."

Yuuri laughs and gives him another hug before pulling away.

Yuri makes his way to the rink entrance and grins when he finds Beka waiting. "Davai," he says, holding out his fist.

"Davai," Beka replies and fist bumps him.

*

Yuri takes gold, his barely-there lead on Yuuri not getting toppled. Yuuri takes silver, and Yuri has to clench his fists so he doesn't scream in happiness when he sees that Beka's pulled third from Leo and JJ by four and six tenths of a point respectively.

Yuuri and Viktor scream their heads off. They hug each other, then gather Yuri between them as he tries to escape, and then Beka's there, somehow, face impassive as Viktor and Yuuri keep them trapped in an even larger hug.

Yuri finds Beka's hand and squeezes it. Beka returns it. 

Yuri lets his pleasure show on the podium, grinning as the Russian anthem plays and he holds his gold up for pictures.

"I'm getting the next one," Beka says just loud enough so it carries.

"You can fucking try," Yuri replies.

"Behave, both of you," Yuuri says. 

*

The reporters want to talk about Yuri's program, his costume, his hair, and how he feels knowing Viktor will be back on the ice at the end of the season.

"I don't think about Viktor," Yuri says, loudly enough for Viktor, a few feet over standing next to Yuuri as he gives his own interviews, can hear him. "My focus is on actual competition."

He hears Viktor stifle a laugh and his grin sharpens. 

*

Leo finds them in the locker room after the medal ceremony. "Congratulations!" he opens his arms like he wants to hug them. Neither Beka nor Yuri make a move towards him. He drops his arms. "None of my friends hug," he says, looking rueful. "I need more American friends."

"Be a worse skater," Yuri says.

Leo laughs. "I take it back." He glances at his phone. "Thought we'd all meet in the hotel lobby in an hour if that works for you two?"

"Sure," Beka says. Yuri nods. Leo waves and walks away. 

*

Yuri showers and blow-dries his hair. Yakov and Lilia show up just as he's slipped on a pair of jeans to give final notes on his performance and congratulate him again for his gold. 

"Don't be stupid tonight," Yakov says. "You don't know those boys."

"I know Beka."

"That is not reassuring."

"His fake ID only makes him 18. He'll be fine," Lilia says. "Have fun," she tells Yuri. "Watch out for ice. It's still cold enough that there could be slick spots."

"Yeah. Fine. Can I get left alone for five damn seconds?"

They leave, and Yuri digs out an overlarge sweater. He looks at his bed, where a tiny lion sits. He'd finished it the night before, tufting out the mane with a fine-tooth comb so that the yarn was fuzzy like a real lion mane. He'd started it after he'd given Leo his number, and now he considers how much shit he'll take if he gives it to him.

"Fuck it," he mutters, tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat and grabbing his hat, gloves, and scarf. 

Beka's already in the lobby when he arrives. Phichit is with him, and his ever-present smile seems to get brighter when he sees Yuri. "Congratulations! Great start to the season."

"Thanks," Yuri says. "You didn't say much in the group chat. I didn't know you'd be coming."

"Leo tracked me down in person. It sounded like fun, though I can't stay the whole night. I'm meeting Yuuri and Viktor at ten. You two can come along if you get bored with these guys."

"We'll see," Beka says, glancing at Yuri, who nods. "Your hair looks different."

"I blow-dried it."

"Oh." Beka reaches out and smoothes a piece into place. 

"Your hair for your routines was so great," Phichit says. "The mohawk braid for your Free Program looked awesome."

"Thanks," Yuri says. He considers admitting Beka picked it out. "I like the braids this season better than last."

"They seem more you," Phichit says. He looks over Yuri's shoulder and grins. "There's the others. We should get a group shot!"

They do, after some shuffling and figuring exactly who is slightly taller than whom. Phichit uses his selfie stick to fit them all into frame, posed against the wall of the lobby so they're not blocking foot traffic.

"Got it!" Phichit says. "Anyone have a problem with it going up on Instagram?"

"You actually _ask_?" Leo says before Yuri can say the same. 

"Depends on the person," Phichit says as he types a caption. "I've got all clears from a lot of people with the caveat I won't post embarrassing stuff."

Yuri's phone beeps, and he opens Instagram. Phichit's captioned the photo "squad reality," and he rolls his eyes. 

Beka, looking over his shoulder, nudges him in the back. "It's nice."

"It's corny."

"It's true."

Yuri can't argue with that, so he shoves his phone back in his pocket and takes up position at the back of the group as Leo leads them towards a restaurant. He's the only American, and when he takes a wrong turn, they don't stop teasing until they spot the restaurant sign.

"Oh, thank god, I thought I was going to die of starvation," Guang Hong says. "You should have warned us we'd need a snack, Leo." He looks over at Phichit and grins. Yuri notices it looks a little shy. "I was about to ask if I could eat one of your hamster plushies," he says. 

Phichit laughs, and Guang Hong blushes, looking pleased. Yuri groans.

"What?" Beka's walking beside him and is the only one who hears him.

Yuri jerks his chin towards Phichit and Guang Hong, who are now walking shoulder-to-shoulder. "I do not need to witness another slobbering love story this season. I have paid my fucking dues."

Beka considers Phichit and Guang Hong for a moment. "Maybe they'll end up at different competitions than you."

"Please," Yuri mutters.

Leo holds the door open for all of them as they step into the restaurant. The waiting area is tiny, and Yuri doesn't miss the surprised looks they get from the patrons who are already there. Yuri figures they're wondering how they're going to fit. "We won't be waiting long," Leo says. "I made a reservation."

They huddle as close as they can while Leo talks to the hostess. Seung-gil says something Yuri can't make out, but it makes Phichit giggle.

"Sardines are dead when they're canned, so that probably helps with the fit," Phichit replies.

"I dare you to get a selfie of this," Guang Hong says.

"No," Yuri says. "I've got enough elbows in my ribs, thanks."

"Short stuff," Beka replies. He grunts when Yuri lands an elbow hard into his ribs. "Retracted."

"Hey, no denting a medal winner!" Guang Hong says.

"I out-medaled him!" Yuri replies.

"Oh my god, I leave you alone for two minutes," Leo says as he comes over to collect them. "And they say Americans are the rude ones."

"We only hurt each other. It's fine," Seung-gil says, and Yuri can't tell if he's being sarcastic. He is, if possible, even more blank-faced than Beka. 

Leo leads them through to a big table at the back of the restaurant. Yuri feels the bump of the lion as he puts his coat down. He grabs it before he can talk himself out of it and slides it across the table to Leo.

"Congratulations on beating JJ," he says.

Leo looks at the lion in surprise. He picks it up and beams. "Holy shit! Did you make this?"

"It's so cute!" Phichit says before Yuri can answer, and Yuri is grateful. He hadn't stopped to consider that giving the lion to Leo could mean admitting he crocheted. "Can I see it?"

Leo hands it over and aims his smile at Yuri. "Thanks so much! I really thought I was gonna bronze, but then Otabek lifted his arm in his FP, and I knew I was out."

"It was a good skate," Beka says.

"You moved a little different in your routines," Seung-gil says, and Yuri can practically see him running the points breakdown in his mind. "I think you got a better score on artistry than you ever have."

"I spent a week in Russia with Yuri," Beka says. "Viktor gave me some pointers, and Lilia tried to snap my legs off."

"It wasn't that bad," Yuri says. 

"I'm pretty sure anything Yuri considers 'not that bad' for training would kill half of us," Phichit says. Everyone around the table, save Yuri, nods in agreement.

"Although, if it gets me on the podium more, I'll let this woman snap my legs in half," Leo says. "She's the one who's always by your coach, right? The ballerina?"

"Prima Ballerina," Yuri corrects. "It's different."

The server comes over with a tray of waters and looks relieved when they tell her they'll need another few minutes to look at their menus. Yuri suspects they look like they'll be an asshole table, all of them in sportswear and clearly young. "You tip in America, right?" he asks Beka.

"Yeah." 

They peruse their menus until the server comes back. Leo ends up repeating the entire table's order after they've all said what they want. The server is apologetic, explaining she didn't quite catch everything due to the restaurant's volume. It's not that loud. Leo waves off her concern with a smile. "They have to do it for me when I'm visiting them. We're used to it."

"Flirt," Seung-gil says once the server is out of hearing.

Leo laughs. "What? I was being nice. She was trying not to insult anyone."

"Uh-huh," Seung-gil replies, glancing darkly towards the path the server had taken. "Bet you have her number by the end of the night."

"Oh, no," Beka says quietly. "I think we may have two sappy relationships happening."

"Shut up," Yuri says, even though he's picking up on that, too. "How dare you say that to me."

"Are any of us straight?" Beka mutters.

Yuri thinks, and then he barks a laugh. "JJ."

Beka laughs too, and everyone turns to look at him. "You cracked him!" Phichit says. "And here I thought the Hero of Kazakhstan was carved from marble and would break from a smile."

"We can't all be a fucking chibi," Yuri replies.

That gets a laugh from everyone, and Guang Hong unrolls his napkin from his silverware and demands a pen. Leo passes one down, and Guang Hong quickly draws Phichit as a chibi with a hamster on his head.

"I love it!" Phichit snaps a picture. "Do the others!"

Guang Hong draws Seung-gil with numbers surrounding him. He gives Leo heart eyes and has him holding the tiny lion Yuri had just given him. Yuri he gives an angry face and two tiny, upraised middle fingers. Otabek is as blank-faced as always, with headphones on and an arrow that reads 'deeply important music' pointing at them.

"What about you?" Phichit asks. "Come on!"

Guang Hong looks at Phichit, and Yuri drops his head on the table when he sees the way his eyes go soft. "Beka, put me out of my misery."

"I'm not winning gold through a mercy kill."

Guang Hong ends up drawing himself looking at the Phichit chibi. The heart eyes are huge, and Phichit seems genuinely flustered when he realizes it. "Um, I'm meeting Viktor and Yuuri later to toast Yuuri's silver. Do you want to come along?"

"Sure," Guang Hong says. 

"Is there something in the water?" Yuri whispers to Beka. 

"I wish I were legal in this country," Beka replies.

*

Their food comes, and the conversation shifts back to skating, injuries, and general shit-talking.

"I swear to god, if I have to see Giacometti grope someone again this season, I'm cutting off his hands," Seung-gil says, though the way his gaze lingers on Leo, Yuri has an idea whose ass particularly he's keeping an eye on. 

"I like him," Phichit says and grins as Seung-gil yelps a wordless protest. "It's fun to flirt with him. He knows not to take it seriously."

"I'm pretty sure you get four sexual diseases just standing next to him," Yuri says.

"Probably strains no one's even heard of," Seung-gil agrees. 

"I don't think you two should be left alone," Leo says, looking between Yuri and Seung-gil. "Like, ever."

"Agreed," Guang Hong says. "That was a scary eye contact thing they just did."

"We can't help it if we're the only ones who see Chris as the walking petri dish he is," Yuri says. Seung-gil hums in agreement.

"What about you, Otabek?" Phichit asks. "What do you think about Chris?"

"I don't have first-hand experience with him, so to speak." Beka huffs a laugh when everyone else groans at the pun. "He's never tried to make a move on me."

"We need better resting bitchfaces," Phichit says to Leo. "You too," he says to Guang Hong. "Those three, they've got it down, but we should practice."

"The day you can bitchface, I will eat my medals," Yuri says to Phichit.

Phichit laughs. "I know. I'm hopeless."

The conversation shifts again, and they linger at the table until Phichit gets up to leave. When they stand, Beka stretches and yawns. "I'm feeling it," he says. "Think I may head back to the hotel."

"I was going to hit a dessert place I heard about," Leo says, holding up his phone. "Yuri, you want to go?"

"Think I'll head back, too."

"I'll go," Seung-gil says. "Not that you asked me."

Leo gives him a tiny punch on the arm. "I was about to. Come on, we'll go."

They split three ways at the door, Phichit and Guang Hong headed east, Seung-gil and Leo south, and Beka and Yuri west.

"I'm not actually that tired," Beka says. "I just wanted it a little quieter."

"I thought maybe," Yuri replies. They walk towards the hotel at a measured pace. Halfway there, Yuri reaches out and slides an arm around Beka's waist. 

"Hi," Beka says. He slips an arm around Yuri's shoulder. "You can't be cold. You're Russian."

"Shut up." Yuri slows his steps, and Beka matches his pace. "I haven't told you congratulations yet."

"You don't need to."

"I want to, though. I've never been excited for someone else to medal before." Yuri curls against Beka when Beka hugs him. "So, congratulations."

"Thank you."

The hotel comes into view a few blocks away. Beka turns them down a side street. It's a run of bars of various levels of loud. No one's outside, so it's an ambient sort of noise as they pass by. 

"I changed my exhibition outfit," Yuri says after half a block.

"Yeah? Which part?"

"You'll see. You'll like it." 

They wander another block further from the hotel before Beka finally turns them back on-course. "Weirdly, my toes are cold," he says.

Yuri laughs. "Mine, too. Want to crash in my room tonight? We can watch a movie."

"Yeah, I'll grab my stuff for tomorrow and let my roommate know."

*

They end up under the covers, pillows behind them to prop them on the headboard. They're both in flannel bottoms and wool socks. Yuri's foregone a shirt, but Beka is wearing a tank top. They watch Adult Swim and try to tempt each other into ordering room service but eat nuts and drink water when they get hungry.

Yakov texts at one, demanding to know Yuri's location. Yuri texts back that he's in his room and about to go to sleep. Yakov demands proof. Yuri sends a selfie. 

**Yakov:** Whose arm is that?

 **Yuri:** For fuck's sake. It's just Beka. He's crashing here.

 **Yakov:** Go to sleep.

*

They go to breakfast together the next morning. Phichit and Guang Hong are sitting at large table alone and wave them over. Yuri considers if he can deal with them first thing in the morning. When Guang Hong leans over and pecks Phichit on the cheek and then looks surprised he's done it, he's pretty sure he's going to vomit.

"Must you?" he says to Phichit.

"He kissed me," Phichit replies. "And yes, he must."

"Do I have any friends who aren't gross in relationships?"

"No," Phichit says instantly. "Also, I promise not to tell anyone you called me a friend."

"Coffee," Yuri says. "Coffee and pancakes."

"Omelette," Lilia says as she walks up to the table. "With wheat toast and fruit."

"I _won_ yesterday," Yuri replies, head still on the table. He feels Beka pat him on the back. 

"And you have to skate today. Otabek, make sure he eats properly."

Yuri's head jerks up at that. "I do not need a fucking minder."

Lilia rolls her eyes. "You are your worst in the mornings."

"Then leave me the fuck alone." They stare each other down before Lilia turns and walks away. Yuri puts his head back on the table.

"How did she look away first and win that?" Phichit asks.

"Prima Ballerina," Beka says before he turns and gives the server his order. "And he'll have--"

"Pancakes!" Yuri yells.

"Omelette with spinach. Wheat toast, light butter, and fruit. Also, a glass of milk and a very strong cup of coffee."

"I can bring a carafe," the server offers.

"YES." Yuri says.

"That would be perfect, thank you."

Yuri groans and turns his head to look at Beka. "It's just the exhibition. I could skate it with food poisoning."

"I know," he says. His hand is warm on Yuri's back, and Yuri stays slumped until the coffee arrives.

Yuuri and Viktor show up a few minutes after that, taking seats on the other side of Guang Hong. Yuuri and Guang Hong immediately start discussing some show Yuri doesn't recognize from the descriptions. Viktor scrolls through his phone. Phichit walks away from the table to talk to a few people and take some pictures. Seung-gil and Leo walk in together, though the air around them seems strained. They sit next to each other because there's nowhere else to sit. Beka makes introductions for Viktor, who greets them both cheerily.

"I can't wait to see your exhibition, Yura," Viktor says. "You've kept it under wraps."

"Because it's none of your business," Yuri replies, still cranky about his omelette. He cuts into it with distaste and glares at Beka, who is calmly eating oatmeal and a single egg over easy. 

After the meal, Yuuri pulls Yuri back with a quick tug on his sleeve so that they're a little away from the group. "Did you and Otabek have an argument?" 

"Lilia wouldn't let me have pancakes, and Beka backed her." Saying it out loud, Yuri feels stupid. "I'm not actually mad."

"Okay. What are you doing before the skate?"

"Going back to my room and talking to no one."

"Okay. Let Viktor or me know if you want to get lunch."

"Fine."

Yuri goes back to his room and finds Beka waiting outside it, his earbuds in. Yuri doesn't talk to him, just swipes the card to get into the room and keeps the door open for Beka to follow. He flops face-first on the bed and turns his head away when Beka lays next to him.

"Yura?"

"Leo and Seung-gil were mad at each other. Did you notice?"

"I did."

"Why do you think they were mad?"

"No idea."

"You should ask Leo."

"He'll tell me if he wants to."

The weird feeling is back in Yuri's stomach. It's been creeping around since he sat down and saw Guang Hong kiss Phichit's cheek. He turns his head to look at Beka. He's on his back, looking up at the ceiling, hands behind his head. He looks relaxed, like he could spend all day sitting next to Yuri and dealing with his bad mood.

"Sorry I was a shitheel at breakfast."

"Accepted," Beka says. 

He turns his head so they're eye-to-eye, and the weird feeling spikes. Yuri presses his face into the bed and wishes he had any idea what to do. 

"What's going on?" Beka asks, and his hand is back on Yuri's back, his fingers spreading wide along his spine. 

Yuri mumbles a few curse words into the mattress for courage, then looks at Beka again. "You're the first person I ever liked on purpose. I feel...I don't know. I keep not knowing."

Beka doesn't answer right away. He turns on his side, and it puts him a little closer to Yuri. He tucks his free arm under his head. "I've never really had a friend either."

"You've said, but you seem better at it."

"We don't have to outdo each other as friends, Yura. We can like each other equally."

Yuri huffs out a breath and closes his eyes. "I just wish I knew why I felt so weird."

"Have you ever felt it before?"

"I don't _know_ , Beka. I barely know what it is." Yuri screws his more tightly closed and presses his face into the bed again. Beka says quiet next to him, but his hand works slowly up and down Yuri's back. It relaxes him a little, and it helps clear his mind.

Has he ever felt like this before? He pokes at the weird feeling, cautious. It feels like...being overfull of piroshkis. Like he's gotten his favorite thing and overdone it because he's afraid it will go away. That the money will be tight again, and there won't be beef in the house, only cabbages and potatoes and onions for filling. That he'll have to work harder than he ever has to make sure he can have what he wants again.

"Yura?" 

Yuri lifts his head and turns on his side. He scoots close enough to Beka that their knees touch. "I'm scared you're going to disappear," he says, staring over Beka's shoulder at the bland wallpaper. "I'm afraid you'll stop liking me."

"I won't."

"You don't know that."

"I liked you before I ever knew you, Yura. Now that I know you, I _know_ I won't stop liking you."

Yuri shakes his head. "But you could. I could be too big an asshole, and you'd be sick of me."

"I couldn't get sick of you." Beka shifts the hand on Yuri's back so it's up between his shoulder blades. It's almost a hug. Yuri slowly slides his own arm around Beka's waist but doesn't pull himself closer. "You're too interesting, Yura. You're too much fun."

"I'm not interesting. All I do is skate."

"And read faster than anyone I know. You know about fashion. You crochet. You're making your rinkmates tiny animals even though you swear you don't like them a lot, and you made me a bear." Beka presses his forehead against the crown of Yuri's head. "He stays on my side table in my room. I talk to him when I can't talk to you."

"What?"

"When my fans get out of line, I talk through my fear of it with Ted if I can't get ahold of you. I talk through my programs with him. I tell him about my day if we can't Skype."

"Oh." Yuri shifts closer, resting his head against Beka's shoulder. Beka shifts as well, maneuvering until his cheek his resting against Yuri's temple. "You never told me that."

"I feel silly about it. I've never done that before, talked to a stuffed animal. But it helps."

"Good."

They go quiet, holding onto each other. They doze off for awhile. He's jerked from the nap by his phone chiming several times in a row. Leo, Phichit, Viktor, and Yuuri have all texted him about lunch plans. Beka's phone goes off a moment later just as many times.

"I should have kept you as my only friend," Yuri says.

Beka gives him a small grin and holds out his hand. Yuri takes it, and Beka gives it a squeeze. "I'm glad however many friends you have."

"Me, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It lives! Real life cockblocks yet again, but it has been defeated. The rest of the fic is ready to go, and the last two chapters will be posted over the next few days. Thanks to everyone who has patiently waited.


	8. Chapter 8

They go to lunch with the same group they were at breakfast with. Seung-gil and Leo are still cold towards one another, and it puts Yuri's teeth on edge. "Okay, one of you start talking or someone's gonna shatter a kneecap on a bad landing," he says midway through the meal.

"What?" Leo asks.

"Yurio's right," Phichit says. "You and Seung-gil have been weird all day."

"We have not," Seung-gil says. "Don't act like you know me."

"Yeah, it'd be a shame if anyone would want to get to know you," Leo says, the bite in his tone so sharp, everyone else stares in disbelief.

"Okay," Yuuri says into the silence. "I think it'd be a good idea if Seung-gil and Leo went off and talked things out."

"I don't--" Seung-gil yelps when he finds himself lifted from his chair by Viktor. Leo gives a similar yelp when Viktor grabs him, too.

"Trust me," Viktor says as he drags them away, "You want to figure things out sooner rather than later. And sober."

"Why wouldn't we be sober?" Seung-gil asks, but Viktor's answer is lost as he pushes them away from the table and towards the door of the restaurant.

"Do they like each other?" Guang-Hong asks. "Like, like-like?"

"Maybe?" Phichit says. "Or Leo was just trying to make a friend, and it backfired."

"A feeling you've never had," Yuuri replies. Phichit laughs.

"They like-like each other," Beka says. "At least, that's the way it feels to me."

"Me, too," Yuri says.

"You two would be the ones who could read Seung-gil," Yuuri says. "You've probably got the more similar personalities."

Yuri shrugs off the statement. Beka seems to barely register it. Guang-Hong mentions something about a museum he wants to check out, and after a quick goodbye to Beka and Yuri, the other three head out.

"You want to walk around? I've got a couple of hours before I have to be in Lilia's room for hair and makeup."

"We're near Harvard. It's got some cool old buildings."

"Sure," Yuri agrees.

They pay their bills and leave the restaurant, pausing at the corner so Beka can check his GPS and set them in the proper direction. They walk the campus with no real aim. Beka likes to stop and read the plaques. Yuri doesn't mind them, but he finds himself more interested in the people walking around.

"Katsudon went to college," he tells Beka. "It seems so weird."

"I'm still deciding if I'll go. It'll be after I retire, but that seems so far away."

"Except we could trip tomorrow and be done," Yuri says.

"Yeah." Beka takes a deep breath like he's steadying himself. He reaches out and takes Yuri hand. "I have options, but there's so much more I want to do. I don't want to have to stop early."

"Me either." Yuri shifts their hands so their fingers are interlaced. It feels better, more solid. He squeezes, and Beka squeezes back. They go back to wandering campus, stopping in front of more buildings, ducking into the library to check it out. The woman at the desk checking IDs tries to tell them they need a student ID, but Yuri and Beka pretend like they don't speak English and show her their regular IDs until she gives up and waves them on.

"I feel bad about that," Beka admits as they wander through the foyer and make their way up the stairs.

"I don't," Yuri says. "You feel bad for both of us."

"Do my best."

They cover each floor in a single circle, starting from the stairwell and walking around until they get to it again. The architecture is nice but repetitive.

"Oh, look," Beka says as he points towards the windows that take up the upper half of the walls in one room, "More arched windows."

"The originality of American design is truly historic," Yuri deadpans.

They leave the library when they realize they're going to have to hurry to get back to the hotel. As they're cutting across campus, Yuri spots a statue and stops cold. "Beka!"

Beka, a few feet ahead, stops short. "Yura, come on! Lilia's gonna scream you out of the hotel."

"I'm sitting in his lap! Get a picture!"

"Yura!" Beka shouts, attempting to grab Yuri before he starts to climb the base of the statue. He misses by inches and watches in amused disbelief as Yuri positions himself in the statue's lap. One of his arms is around the man's neck. He's sitting sideways like the statue may pick him up and take him in a bridal carry.

"Beka! Picture!"

Beka pulls out his phone and snaps three quick pictures. They're already drawing a crowd. "Down. Now." Beka says, walking up to the base to offer his hand.

Yuri balances on the edge of the base and holds out both hands. "Lean up," he says.

Beka gets on his own toes and does as asked, grabbing Yuri by the waist as Yuri grips his shoulders. "If you were anyone else, you'd have slipped and killed yourself."

"That's why there's only one Ice Tiger of Russia."

"One, two, three," Beka counts, and he picks up Yuri, turns neaty, and sets him down on his own two feet.

There's a smattering of applause and a few snide remarks, but Beka and Yuri pay it no mind, turning back towards the hotel and going on their way.

*

Lilia doesn't yell, but she gives Yuri a hard look of disapproval. "You know the prep takes time."

"I'm sorry," Yuri says, honestly contrite. "We were walking around and lost track of time."

Lilia looks at Beka, then back at Yuri. "Fine. Go get your hair damp. Otabek, we'll see you at the exhibition."

"Of course," Beka replies. He gives Yuri a small, rueful smile as he leaves.

"Hair," Lilia orders. "You can see him later."

Yuri rolls his eyes but does as he's told.

*

The weird feeling builds up again as he stands by the rink and watches Beka's exhibition skate. It's different than last year, with more theatrics in some of the moves. He performs a step sequence that reminds Yuri of flamenco, and he laughs in surprise. It fits Beka perfectly but looks nothing like what he's done before.

"That was great!" Yuri says as Beka comes off the ice. Yuri sees Yuuri going on the ice and stares for a moment at his shirt. "What the hell?"

Beka turns to look. Yuuri's in a T-shirt that reads, 'Wish I Were A Tiger.' "Huh," Beka says.

Yuri squints like it'll make the shirt make any more sense. "I don't get it."

"Maybe it's not supposed to make sense."

Yuri gives Beka a hard side-eye. "What do you know?"

"I know he's wearing a weird shirt," Beka replies, but the ghost of a grin is showing at the corners of his mouth.

Yuri considers the shirt he's wearing under his zipped team jacket. "Beka."

Beka folds, reading the tension in Yuri's shoulders. "I swear I wasn't part of whatever he's doing, Yura. But I had to ask someone your favorite color, and when I texted Viktor, I ended up sending him a photo of the mock up to see what he thought. I wanted to be sure it was something you'd wear."

"Fuck," Yuri whispers. "They don't know I changed my costume, but everyone's gonna think we planned this."

"Wait." Beka stares at Yuri's zipped jacket. "Are you--"

"Yes," Yuri says. He jams his hands in his pockets as Yuuri's music moves into the final thirty seconds. "Shit. It was supposed to be a _shock_ , to work with all the beat changes. Knock them off balance from before the song starts and keep them there."

"It could still work," Beka says, as he turns to watch Yuuri's last jump. "Go out there and own it. Make it look like it was your idea from the start. I'll grab Katsuki when he comes off the ice. I don't think he'll have any problem going along."

Yuri breathes out hard and feels the weird feeling crawl into his ribcage. Own it, he thinks. Yeah. He can do that. "Thanks, Beka."

"I've got this. Go ruin them." They fist bump.

Yuuri comes off the ice and gives Yuri a wide grin. "Go get them," he says.

"Fucking right," Yuri replies. He unzips his team jacket, back to the crowd. Yuuri sees it, and his eyes go wide.

"I love it," he says, and squeezes Yuri's shoulder as he turns and skates to center ice. He keeps his arms around his chest until he sets himself to his starting position. His arms go out from his sides, almost perpendicular, except his elbows are relaxed and his wrists and hands are held up like he's basking in a standing ovation.

There's a nervous murmur through the audience, then a few people whistle shrilly and start applauding. Yuri lifts his chin another inch and unmistakingly hears Viktor and Yuuri screaming their support. The audience still isn't quite certain what to do when the music starts. They were expecting Yuri, but apparently not his birthday gift from Beka: A loose, white tank top with sequins on the front spelling out, 'Viktor Wishes He Were Me.'

Yuri loses himself in his program, pulling up that weird feeling from where it's tugging on his ribcage and pushing it through the rest of him, letting it bleed into his fingertips when he lifts his arm for a jump. Feels is fill out the open spaces in his feet as he shifts from a spread eagle to a sit and spin, then into a camel spin, each piece matched to the changing beat of the song.

He finishes on his knees, sliding to a stop with the tank pulled tight against his chest and making the audience from end to end in the rink read what's spelled out in sequins.

Their cheering is beyond even what he got for his Free Program. He stands from the ice and raises both arms. His throat tightens. The weird feeling is bleeding from his fingertips, off the ends of his hair. He looks to the kiss and cry. Viktor and Yuuri are screaming their heads off. Beka's smiling as he claps. Mila has her arms up in a victory motion. Georgi is laughing so hard he looks like he might fall over, and Leo, Guang-Hong, Seung-gil, and Phichit are running over, trying to crowd in so they can whoop for Yuri as well.

Yuri skates over, and Beka gets to him first, holding him by the shoulders before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. "Fucking amazing," he breathes against Yuri's neck. "Also, I need to warn you about Viktor's shirt--"

Yuri is absolutely covered in people before Beka can finish. He can't hear a thing besides their yelling, which just barely beats out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Beka loosens his hold so everyone else can talk to Yuri, but he holds onto Yuri's wrist.

"Amazing," Yuuri says. "Just…" He looks like he might cry. "I'm so proud of you."

"An excellent routine," Viktor adds, and Yuri sees his shirt.

"WHAT THE FUCK."

VIktor looks down at his shirt. It's a T-shirt like Yuuri's, except it reads, 'I Wish I Were A Fairy.' "You've always been an inspiration to me, Yura."

Yuri turns a glare on Yuuri. "Did you explain international wording issues?"

"Loudly and repeatedly, and he didn't care," Yuuri replies, looking fondly exasperated.

"YURI OH MY GOD," Phichit yells, giving up on patience and shoving Yuuri out of the way so he can grab Yuri and hug him. "I got so many amazing pictures."

Yuri gets lost in another round of praise from Leo, Guang Hong, and Seung-gil. Then Mila and Georgi crowd him. He's starting to feel light-headed and overwhelmed. Beka squeezes his wrist, and it helps. Lilia cutting through the crowd to order Yuri over for interviews helps more.

"I didn't know they had those shirts," he says to Lilia.

"Yakov did. So did I. We've told them it was a combined idea, Viktor and Yuuri wanting to show support for your growth, and your shirt came from a friend as a gift, which sparked the idea."

Yuri repeats the story when asked. A few reporters try to get him to shit-talk Viktor ("What about his own style do you think is lacking?"), but Yuri's been doing this a long time, and Viktor and Yuuri keep interrupting his interviews to brag on him and give him one-armed hugs.

"I think we all want to be as honest in ourselves as Yuri is," Yuuri says to a reporter. "One of my great weaknesses as a skater for a long time was a lack of self-confidence. I couldn't see my own strengths. Yuri does, and he knows how to use them to best advantage."

"Fairies are savagely graceful," Viktor says to his own reporter. "When Yura was originally nicknamed The Russian Fairy, I thought it was because of the way he brings a thread of power and anger to the ice that no one else is currently showcasing. Unfortunately, people were referring to the fact he looks delicate and missed the danger under his skin. I'm glad the nickname is switching to tiger, if only so people will not mistakenly think he is some delicate creature in need of protection, when, in fact, it's always been us who need protection from the fairies."

Yuri gives a few more interviews, refusing to give away who the shirt is from. Beka watches off to one side, his own interviews long over. None of the reporters, it seems, have picked up on their friendship.

"We must get some rest before the banquet," Yakov says, cutting into Yuri's seventh or eighth interview. "Interview requests may be sent to the information provided in his packet. Good day." He grasps Yuri's shoulders from behind and leads him from the rink and down into the locker room.

Yuri sits heavily on a bench and pushes his hair off his face. Yakov looks him over. "What?" Yuri asks.

"I did not expect Vitya to push you from his shadow so hard." Yakov grunts in amusement. "You may be seen as your own skater much sooner than expected."

Yuri rubs his hands over his face. "Great."

"It won't always be so overwhelming. You've accomplished much harder things." Yakov squeezes his shoulder. "I'll see you at the banquet. Be on time."

"Yes, Yakov," Yuri says, too tired to say something sharp.

Yakov leaves him, and Yuri lays down on the bench, legs on either side. He hears footsteps and is surprised when he turns his head and sees only Beka on the stairs. "I figured the crowd would follow you in."

"Viktor offered everyone free drinks," Beka says. He sits next to Yuri's head. "And Seung-gil got very insistent on everyone leaving you alone for a little while."

"Guess we really do get him, huh?"

"Seems like it." Beka smiles at Yuri. "There was something in your exhibition that wasn't in your other programs. I can't put a finger on it, but you pulled out something new."

"The weird feeling, I figured it out." Yuri stares at the ceiling. "I can't believe it took me so long, but it was complicated. I didn't know what it was when I started the routine, but I used it anyway, and when I was done, I knew what it was."

"What is it?" Beka asks.

Yuri reaches a hand over his head, and Beka grasps his fingers. "Love, but a bunch of different kinds at once."

"You're more than Agape, are you?"

Yuri returns Beka's smile. "I think so. I felt...I felt like Mila and Georgi and Viktor and Katsudon were my family, I guess. I mean, I don't have siblings, but I got this feeling watching them that I get when you talk about Alina."

"Fondness, admiration, exasperation, and the occasional urge to ship them three countries over?"

Yuri laughs. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Definitely sibling love," Beka says.

"And then the other guys came running over, and I thought, 'Those are my friends. Those guys want to be my friends just to be my friends. We have a thing in common, and we understand each other.' That sounds sort of stupid."

"It sounds honest. That's how I feel about them."

"It's weird to feel it. I never fit in with Yakov's other junior skaters. None of them were working the way I was. Their families had enough people that they could take care of each other if something happened." Beka squeezes his hand. Yuri squeezes back. "But I was too young for the seniors to take me seriously until last year."

"And here you are," Beka says.

"Yeah." Yuri tilts his head back so he can see Beka's face. Beka's looking down at him, face as blank as it usually is, but there's warmth in his eyes like he's banked a fire just to share with Yuri. "And then there's you."

"What about me?"

"What I feel for you is different than the rest. It's not a sibling feeling and it's not a friend feeling. It's different."

Beka looks away. "I know what you mean."

"Yeah?"

"You're different for me, too."

Yuri sits up, keeping their hands together as he swings his left leg over the bench so he can sit side-by-side with Beka properly. He looks at their joined hands. "What do you think it is?"

Beka looks at him, a smile careful on his face. "I think I'm in love with you. Romantically."

"I've never been in love."

"Me neither."

Yuri leans on Beka's shoulder. "Then how do you know?"

"It's an educated guess. I don't touch anyone like I touch you. I don't think of you like I think of anyone else. I think about kissing you."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Not all the time. Just, there are moments that it hits me."

Yuri thinks about that. Beka watches him, the banked fire in his eyes maintaining even though his tight jaw tells Yuri he's worried. "I think about just being alone with you doing nothing."

Beka's jaw relaxes. "I think about that, too."

"I think about you braiding my hair." It comes out before Yuri can really think about it, and the admission makes him flush, but he doesn't look away from Beka's smile. It makes Yuri feel bold, so he decides to admit to more. "I think about meeting Alina and your parents and visiting Almaty to train with you."

"Do you think about kissing me?"

Yuri feels his flush deepen. "Yeah," he says, chin up. He shifts, not quite sure what he's going to do, but just wanting to be closer. When he does, there's a loud pop from his left knee and one from his right hip. He groans at the loss of atmosphere and shoves away Beka when he laughs. "Asshole."

"Come on, get out of your skates. I'll grab my suit from my room and change in yours."

"Okay." Yuri gets his skates off and switches to his trainers while Beka opens the locker he'd been using for the competition and hands him his team jacket and his outerwear.

"How'd this get down here?" Yuri asks as he zips his team jacket.

"I brought it down while you were still being interviewed. After I was done."

"Thanks, Beka." Yuri hefts his duffel and watches Beka reach for his hand. "How did your interviews go, anyway?"

"They were good. There were a couple of reporters from Kazakhstan who picked up some of the nuances of my exhibition skate. I was surprised. They haven't been that sharp before."

"The Hero of Kazakhstan is determined," Yuri says. "Looks like it's paying off."

Beka chuckles as he opens the locker room door and motions Yuri to exit ahead of him. "Not quite the point of my theme, but I'll take it. Anything to keep the sport going."

"You really have to talk to Phichit."

"I've got his number. It'll happen."

They walk to the hotel in silence, taking a detour when they spot a few reporters waiting out front. They slip in a side door and take the stairs to third floor before stepping into the hallway to get on the elevator.

The elevator is half-full with people they don't know. "I'll come with you to your room," Yuri says.

"Okay," Beka agrees, and presses the button for fifteen.

Beka's rinkmate--it takes Yuri a second to remember his name is Marat--is in his underwear when they come in and greets them in English before switching to Kazakh to talk to Beka while Beka gathers his suit and dress shoes.

"You can crash in my room again if you want," Yuri says in Russian.

Beka grabs his flannel bottoms as well, and the tone of Marat's voice goes teasing. Beka gives him a hard look that makes Marat laugh.

"He says he loved your exhibition skate," Beka tells him as he shuts the door behind him. There's a sing-song sort of heckle still coming from the room.

"That's not all he said," Yuri replies.

Beka looks abashed. "He was sort of putting emphasis on how much he's heard about you but not seen you. I don't think he believes I'm in your room because you have it to yourself."

Yuri laughs. "He thought you were staying the night like _staying the night_?"

"Yeah, no matter how much I tried to explain."

Yuri pushes the down button for the elevator and looks at Beka. "Tonight, are you _staying the night_?"

Beka looks poleaxed. "Um. I hadn't considered that."

Yuri considers it very quickly and in a lot of detail as they take the elevator to his floor and then walk to his room. "I like having you nearby when I can," Yuri says once they're in his room.

"Same," Beka replies. He lays out his suit and places his dress shoes on the floor. He turns to Yuri and takes in the whole room. "I don't know how to do this," he says.

"Neither do I," Yuri replies. He steps forward and wraps himself around Beka's middle. Beka returns the embrace. "I can do this."

"Me, too," Beka agrees. "Have you ever kissed anyone?"

"A few times. Spin the bottle in juniors a few times. Nothing that meant anything." Yuri lifts his head so he can see Beka. "What about you?"

"About the same. I had a girlfriend for about two weeks in juniors. It was when I was training in Canada. We were both thirteen and wanted to date someone, so we tried to."

"Was it bad?"

"No. She was nice, but we weren't actually into each other romantically, so it just felt weird the whole time." Beka steps back but doesn't let go. He touches Yuri's face with his fingertips, then pulls them away with a laugh. "God, you are so sweat-sticky."

Yuri grunts, annoyed. "Well, some of us skated our asses off today, Beka. Try it sometime."

"Maybe." Beka touches Yuri's cheek again. "We both need showers."

"You go first," Yuri offers. "You've been waiting longer."

They stay holding each other for another minute before Beka untangles himself. "I won't be long."

Yuri nods and watches him walk into the bathroom. He strips to his underwear and lies back on the bed. He scrolls through his contacts and pauses, fingers hovering over Katsudon's number. He takes a few deep breaths and opens their ever-lengthening message thread.

**Yuri:** I need to ask a question, and you can't laugh at me.

**Katsudon:** Of course not. What is it?

**Yuri:** How do you make a first kiss happen?

Yuuri doesn't answer for four minutes. The message indicator doesn't show any proof of him typing.

**Yuri:** Katsudon, if you're laughing at me, I will eat your medals.

**Katsudon:** I'm not laughing. I'm thinking. I should have said that.

**Katsudon:** I don't think I know, Yura.

**Katsudon:** I think it happens when you decide it's a good time.

**Yuri:** NOT HELPFUL

**Katsudon:** I'm sorry I don't have an answer you can follow more easily.

**Yuri:** But, like, what happened so you and Viktor kissed for the first time?

**Katsudon:** I don't remember. We were walking on the beach and talking, and we stopped for some reason, and there was a kiss in there somewhere.

**Yuri:** YOU ARE USELESS.

**Katsudon:** Seems so.

**Katsudon:** Do you want to tell me who it is?

**Yuri considers it. He hears the shower water turn off.**

**Yuri:** It's Beka. I think I'm in love with him.

**Katsudon:** Well, if that gets confusing, I do actually have some useful information there.

**Yuri:** Like what?

**Katsudon:** Trust your instincts and be happy.

**Yuri:** GOD YOU ARE LAME

**Katsudon:** We'll see you at the banquet.

**Yuri:** Tell Viktor if he repeats this conversation to anyone, I will murder him.

**Katsudon:** I will.

Yuri tosses his phone on the bed beside him and sits up as Beka comes out of the bathroom. He looks at him, not as a friend or a competitor, but as someone he wants to kiss. His jaw is a perfect, sharp line. He has an interesting nose. His shoulders are wide, and while Yuri knows they're the same level of fitness, Beka's body holds his muscle differently, giving him a smooth chest and stomach and arms that only show their strength when he bends them, like he's doing now to dry his hair.

_He's beautiful_ , Yuri thinks. He wants to say it, but just the thought of it leaves him feeling off-balance, so he swallows it down.

Beka finishes drying his hair and wraps the towel around his neck. The one at his waist is tucked in tight, and the edges split wide when he sits on the bed. "Your turn."

"Thanks." Yuri goes into the bathroom and slips out of his underwear. He breathes in the steamy air left over from Beka's shower as he starts his own. He looks at himself in the mirror, wondering what to do with his hair. "Beka!"

"Yeah?"

"I need a hairstyle for tonight!"

"I'll see what Alina's come up with."

Yuri steps into the shower and spends a few minutes letting the water run down his body and relax him. He takes a quick inventory, checking for any out-of-place aches or pains. There's a half-healed blister on his foot that's opened up again, and he makes a mental note to get a bandage on it before he gets dressed. He feels fine otherwise, except for the twist in his stomach he recognizes as nerves.

He wants to kiss Beka so much. He doesn't care if he does it right; he just wants it. But he also doesn't want it to be awkward. He mulls it over as he steps out of the shower and dries off, wrapping the towel around his waist before taking another off the rack and starting to dry his hair. He comes out of the bathroom squeezing excess water from the ends and finds Beka in his underwear, seeing to a couple of small cuts on his feet. "Hand me a bandage?"

Beka turns Yuri's small but well-stocked first-aid kit so Yuri can grab what he needs. He spots the blister and pats the edge of the bed. "I'll do it for you if you want."

"Thanks." Yuri puts his foot where Beka suggested and watches him dab on antiseptic and place the bandage.

"Only the one?"

"Yeah. It'll get worse over the season."

"Me, too," Beka says. He closes the kit and puts it back on the side table where Yuri always keeps it. He looks up at Yuri, who's still standing, and he seems dazed for a moment.

"Beka?"

"I'm just looking at you," he says. "Letting myself look at you, I guess." He reaches out and touches a scar on Yuri's ribs. "What's that from?"

Yuri laughs at the memory. "Grandma had chickens when I moved in. The rooster didn't like me."

"You got attacked by a rooster?"

"I challenged the rooster to a fight, actually." Yuri laughs again when Beka does. "I was six."

"Did the rooster survive?"

"Yeah. Grandma lectured me about not starting fights. Grandpa came to my room later and said Grandma forgot to add I should only take on fights I can win. I believed him at the time. I don't know if Grandma ever found out he'd said it."

Beka points to a faint scatter scar on his left bicep. "Alina liked to bite me when she was teething. I had to get two stitches."

"Wow. She's always been devastating."

"Yeah."

Yuri sits next to Beka and tosses the towel for his hair into a corner of the room. "Beka."

Beka touches his cheek and brings up his other hand to comb through Yuri's hair. "Yura," he says.

They watch each other, and Yuri wants to lean in so much, but he can't quite make himself do it. Beka leans in instead, putting them forehead-to-forehead.

"Yura," Beka says again, and Yuri can feel it against his mouth. Yuri tilts his chin up, and Beka shifts so they won't bump noses, and there it is. The first kiss. When Yuri opens his mouth just a little, Beka does as well, and they breathe into each other's mouths before pulling away.

Beka is smiling softer than Yuri's ever seen him smile. "Again?" he asks.

"Yes," Yuri says, and he lets Beka come to him, wanting him to know the rush of it. He tries sliding his tongue out to touch Beka's lower lip, and Beka gasps and returns the gesture.

They keep kissing like that, careful but bold in little ways. Yuri puts a hand on Beka's knee to let himself push upward a bit. Beka bites gently at Yuri's bottom lip. Yuri runs his fingers through the fuzz behind Beka's ear. Beka pulls away so he can duck down and kiss Yuri on the neck. Yuri presses a kiss to his temple.

They hold each other like that. Beka nuzzles Yuri's shoulder when Yuri runs his fingertips through his undercut again.

"No wonder Potya likes you," Yuri says. "She does the same thing when I scratch her back."

Beka chuckles, and it's warm against Yuri's skin. "We should get dressed."

Yuri glances at the clock. "I want one more kiss."

"Demanding," Beka murmurs while lifting his head. This one is a combination of everything so far, the little bite, the shared breath, their tongues touching each other, light and careful. "There," Beka says when he pulls aways. He looks at Yuri and dips back down for a chaste, sweet peck to his lips.

Yuri smiles at it and squeezes Beka's knee before letting go. "What are you doing about my hair?"

Beka reaches for his phone and shows Yuri the tutorial he's found. "Too much?"

Yuri grins at the picture. It's a French braid styled in a heart. "I like it."

*

Yakov and Lilia are waiting outside the banquet room when Yuri and Beka walk down the hall from the elevator. Beka's coach is with them, and they halt a rather intense-looking discussion when they approach.

"There you are!" Yakov says. He gives Yuri a once-over. "You're well-pressed, good."

"I know what I'm doing," Yuri replies. "Why are you out here?"

Beka's coach holds out his phone. It's open to Instagram, showing a photo of Beka and Yuri at Harvard. Someone had snapped it just as Beka had lifted Yuri off the base of the statue. Yuri notes, absently, that they look like they're doing a pair skate lift. "They think you're boyfriends," Beka's coach says. "People inside are already asking questions."

Beka glances at Yuri. "We were just having fun," Beka says. "I was helping him down so he wouldn't hurt himself."

"Yeah," Yuri agrees.

"That's fine," Lilia interjects. "We can tell everyone that it's a misunderstanding." The sharp look she gives Yuri tells him she knows it's not completely true.

"We'll be inside in a moment," Beka says, and the adults nod and leave them alone. Beka turns fully to Yuri. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Yuri shrugs. "I'm fine." He cocks his head, taking in the way Beka shifts his shoulders. "I'm used to people thinking I'm dating someone or taking creeper shots. This is nothing. Are you okay?"

Beka sighs heavily. "I don't know. I'm not embarrassed, but I...forgot myself when you were climbing on that statue. I didn't think about anyone watching or interpreting things."

"Even if you had, it wouldn't have stopped them."

Beka looks around them, then steps closer, dropping his voice. "I didn't know if you wanted Yakov and Lilia to know we've….confessed?"

Yuri snorts. "Ugh, we did, didn't we? Gross."

Beka chuckles. "Completely gross."

"It's okay. I think I'd rather keep...this...just for us right now."

"Me, too," Beka agrees. He straightens his shoulders and glances at the banquet room door. "Let's get this over with."

Yuri gives him a determined nod before he opens the door and gestures Beka ahead of him.

"AH! OUR GOLD MEDALIST!" Someone shouts from across the room.

"Fuck," Yuri mutters. "That was fast."

"My coach is waving me over," Beka says, looking over Yuri's shoulder. "Davai."

"Fucking davai," Yuri agrees as he walks over to Yakov and Lilia, who are already surrounded by sponsors.

Yuri shakes hands and nods along to various pitches and says as little as possible as Yakov and Lilia handle outright turning down some people and agreeing to see further marketing information from others. Yuri knows he'll have to take over his own sponsorships sooner rather than later, and he generally tries to be more involved in choosing who gets to plaster his face on things, but tonight, he's thrumming with his win, his exhibition skate, and kissing Beka.

"Excuse me," he says after forty minutes. "I need food."

"We'll speak with you in the morning about the current plans," Lilia says, touching his shoulder.

"If you have just a--"

Lilia gives the would-be sponsor a look so sharp he takes a step back. "Yuri has been more than patient. He has friends to celebrate with."

"Go," Yakov says, patting him on the back. "We'll finish here."

"Thank you," Yuri mutters and hurries to the other side of the room. He spots Yuuri and Viktor still surrounded by sponsors. He can't see Beka, but he hears JJ talking to someone about how he'll take back his loss at his next event and is tempted to gag loudly behind him.

"Yuri!" Leo calls with a wave. He's next to the buffet table, standing next to Seung-gil whose suit, Yuri notices, fits terribly.

"Tell me there's cake."

"There's so much cake," Leo says, pointing to the far end of the table.

"The red velvet is the best," Seung-gil says.

"There's chocolate and vanilla, too," Leo adds.

"Glad you two aren't being assholes anymore," Yuri says and heads for the cake as Leo sputters and Seung-gil makes a sound that might be a very quiet laugh.

"We weren't being assholes!" Leo insists, following Yuri. "We were just having a hard time talking."

"Whatever. Glad it's over. It was dumb." Yuri chooses a slice of red velvet cake and grins when he spots sorbet. He adds a small scoop of vanilla, then grabs a fork from the cup at the end of the table.

"It was dumb," Leo admits, giving Seung-gil a rueful look. Seung-gil looks unimpressed, but he'd looked unimpressed before.

Viktor and Yuuri walk over, Yuuri looking like he's just been freed from torture. Yuri passes his plate over without thinking. Yuuri's whole face lights up at the cake and sorbet. "Thank you," he says.

"Yeah," Yuri replies. He gets himself a fresh slice of cake. Viktor is asking Leo and Seung-gil about their upcoming schedules. Yuuri is communing with the carbs. "Fucking sponsors," Yuri says to Yuuri.

"We passed Otabek. He and his coach are still negotiating. It looks like he has some new people interested."

"Good," Yuri says. "He deserves it."

Yuuri smiles. "Yes, he does. This season is going to be interesting."

"They're always interesting when I'm around," JJ says as he walks over.

"Fuck," Yuri mutters.

"Easy," Yuuri replies. "Professional function."

"Viktor!" JJ says, his arms outstretched. Viktor gives him a single look, then returns to his conversation with Seung-gil. Going how by how he's gesturing, Yuri's pretty sure it's about the cut of Seung-gil's suit. "You're busy," JJ says, patting Viktor on the back.

"Yuuri!" he tries.

"Hello, JJ," Yuuri says, and Yuri blinks in surprise at how soft and shy Yuuri sounds. "You skated very well."

"I skated _great_. The other guys just got lucky."

"They didn't get lucky," Yuri says. "They outskated you."

JJ waves off his comment. "Your routines were pretty good, Yuri. Keep it up, you'll be as good as me."

"I beat you at GPF, and I beat you here. How many more times do you have to rank below me before you realize I'm better than you?"

"Holy shit," Leo says in a whisper. Their little group is completely quiet. Viktor looks very pleased. Yuuri is blank-faced. Leo looks like he's watching a horror movie, and Seung-gil has actually cracked a smile.

"Hey, easy now," JJ says, laying a hand on Yuri's shoulder. "It's all in good fun. We're all great."

"Take your hand off me before I break your fucking fingers."

"Oh, come on--"

"Funny, I thought he was perfectly clear," Beka says from behind JJ. "Remove your hand."

"Otabek! Hey! Nice job this time!"

"I do a nice job every time," Otabek replies before Yuri can let loose. "As do you."

"I do a great job," JJ says, and he clearly thinks his smile is cheeky. Yuri wants to kick it off his face.

"Of course. My English must be rusty." Beka pauses for the barest breath. "Just like your quad loop."

"Oh my fucking god," Leo whispers. Yuri realizes he's recording the whole thing on his phone. "Phichit's gonna shit when he finds out he missed this."

"Where is Phichit?" Viktor asks Yuuri like JJ and Beka aren't glaring each other down. Well, JJ is glaring. Beka is just staring.

"He and Guang Hong decided to enjoy a night together since they didn't medal," Yuuri replies, back to sounding like his usual self.

"That's so sweet," Viktor says, stepping closer to Yuuri and slipping an arm around his waist. Yuuri feeds him a bite of cake.

"Gross," Yuri says.

JJ turns to look. "What's happening?"

Viktor looks at JJ and blinks slowly. "Oh. JJ. Are you still here?"

JJ sputters and throws up his hands. "I'm going back where people appreciate me," he says, walking away. Yuuri shoves cake into Viktor's mouth before he can yell after him.

"Why is he like that?" Seung-gil asks.

"Fell on his head too much when he started," Yuri says.

"He's earned his confidence," Yuuri says after giving Yuri a look. "He is extremely talented with a lot of technical skill. He's just not good at using it."

"You'd know," Yuri mutters, and he feels instantly terrible. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Yuuri is laughing.

"It's true," he says. "It was my biggest obstacle because I didn't believe in myself. JJ's got it going the opposite way. He believes in himself a little too much."

"Arrogant, not assertive," Leo says. "My coach is always on me to remember the difference. I want to be assertive on the ice, not up my own ass."

"I'm arrogant," Yuri says, feeling uncomfortable. He wonders if they all secretly dislike him as much as he dislikes JJ.

"On the ice, yeah, but you're not the same as JJ around us," Leo says. Seung-gil nods in agreement. "You mostly do your own thing."

"You yell sometimes," Seung-gil adds. "But it seems like that's more like stress and less about wanting to be a jerk."

"Personally, I think he wants to be a bit of a jerk," Viktor says. "For public persona purposes."

"Shut up, old man," Yuri mumbles.

"An excellent example," Viktor says, and Yuri tries not to laugh along with everyone, but he can't help it. He feels so comfortable and accepted. It's nice to be in on something.

"After sponsors and that, I need champagne," Beka says, looking for the telltale rows of flutes they all know are on a table somewhere in the room. "Anyone else?"

"Grab me one?" Yuri asks. He's surprised when Yuuri doesn't question it, only goes with Beka to help him carry back flutes.

"We're in the States," Viktor says quietly when they walk off. "Watch you intake. The sponsors will forgive underaged drinking as long as you don't make a fool of yourself."

Yuri stops himself before telling Viktor he doesn't need a fucking babysitter. Truth is, he's never dared try to drink at a banquet before, and Viktor's advice is useful. "Two flutes, max," he says. "Three if we're here long enough."

"Making an early escape?"

"Aren't you?"

Viktor grins and touches Yuri's elbow, leading him a little ways away from Leo and Seung-gil, who are watching something on Seung-gil's phone. "Yuuri showed me the conversation you had earlier," he says in an undertone.

"If this is a sex talk, I'm stabbing you with a butter knife."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Viktor says, holding his hands wide in innocence. "I wanted to tell you I'm proud you reached out to Yuuri."

"WHAT."

Viktor shakes his head. "That was supposed to be a compliment."

"Well, you failed."

"Clearly." Viktor taps his finger against his chin. "Give me a moment."

Yuri wants to stomp his foot or shove Viktor away from him, but Viktor looks incredibly sincere, so he just breathes deeply instead. "Anytime," he says once he can unclench his jaw.

"You've already improved as a skater, and you'll only get better as the season goes on. But you've also matured. I've seen you choosing to hold your tongue rather than fight, and I know how difficult it can be to evolve. So, I am proud you are evolving and letting people in." Viktor smiles when he finishes. "There. That was much better."

Yuri nods, feeling a bit wrung out. "Great. Thanks. Appreciated. Etcetera."

Viktor laughs. "Perhaps one too many emotional moments for you today. It's a process."

"Where's the champagne?" Yuri asks, looking past Viktor.

Viktor glances towards the table as well. "They're headed over right now." He gives Yuri one more smile and walks over to meet Yuuri halfway, taking his flute and saying something that makes Yuuri look very pleased as they clink their glasses together.

"You look exhausted," Beka says, holding out a flute to Yuri. "Everything okay?"

"Viktor is being sincere, and I'm kind of appreciating it."

Beka sips his champagne and shakes his head. "Terrifying."

Yuri sips his own and nods in agreement. "You're teasing, but it really is."

"Oh," Beka says, holding out his champagne flute. "Congratulations."

Yuri chuckles, but clinks his own flute against Beka's. "You, too. But we never did this."

Leo and Seung-gil walk over, Leo with his phone out. "You guys have to see this. Minami, that kid who wants to be Katsuki? He posted a training video, and it is nuts."

Yuri and Beka watch as Yuri tries to place the kid. "Wait. I met him. He was cheering with the triplets at the GPF."

"Triplets?" Seung-gil asks.

"Later," Leo says. "He couldn't land a quad last year." They all watch as Minami lands a quad toe and doesn't even wobble.

"Shit," Yuri says.

"When's his next competition?" Beka asks.

Leo scrolls under the video. "Says he's going to do the Asian Open. He's starting late so he can be sure his quad sticks."

"Looks like it worked," Yuri says. A rush goes through him as the video loops, and he sees the jump again. "I can take him."

"If any of us medal on him, it'll be a good skate," Seung-gil says.

Yuri can't disagree. "Show Katsuki," he says. "He'll love it."

Yuuri does, in fact, love it. He insists on watching it three times. Beka grabs Yuri's hand while everyone around them is distracted and pulls him out a side door into a staff hallway behind the banquet room.

"Where are we going?" Yuri asks.

"Back to your room to put on our coats, and then somewhere," Beka says. "I don't know."

"I wish you had a bike here."

Beka squeezes his hand. "Me, too."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the squad for seeing this through. You're all the best.

It takes them a couple of minutes to find the staircase. They take it up a floor then get on the elevator to Yuri's room. An older woman on the elevator smiles at their suits. "Don't you boys look sharp. Is there a prom going on tonight?"

"No, Ma'am," Beka says. "We're ice skaters."

"Oh, how nice." She gets off on the sixth floor. "I'll look for you at the Olympics."

"Thank you," Beka calls after her. 

"Do you think she knows there's a year before Olympic trials?"

"She was nice," Beka replies. He looks at Yuri in a different way than before. His eyes slide half-closed.

"What?" Yuri asks.

"Can I--" Beka groans when the elevator dings and opens on Yuri's floor. "I want to kiss you when we get back to your room."

"Okay," Yuri agrees, feeling breathless and giddy. He leads the way and shivers when Beka's hands curl around his waist as he tries to remember where he put his room key.

"Should I not?" Beka asks, pulling his hands away, though they stay curled just inches from Yuri's skin. 

"It feels really nice," Yuri says. "I like it."

Beka puts his hands back and chuckles when it takes Yuri four tries to get his key to work properly. He pushes lightly at Yuri's back as he follows him inside.

Yuri pulls off his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, then peels off his suit coat. "Come on, Beka," he says as he wriggles out of his shoes, "catch up."

Beka snaps out of watching Yuri and grins as he drops his own jacket and gets out of his shoes. He removes his tie and opens three buttons on his shirt.

Yuri flings himself onto the bed, arms over his head. "Come here," he says.

Beka walks over and pauses at the edge of the bed. He rubs his hands up Yuri's calves, curves them around his knees. He drops his hands and crawls onto the bed next to Yuri, propping himself up on one hand as he looks down at Yuri. "I don't even know where to start," he says. He presses his fingers against the hollow of Yuri's collarbone. 

"Just kiss me, Beka. Like earlier."

Beka does, that same softness, the same focus as before the banquet. Yuri holds Beka's head in both hands and sighs when Beka lays a trembling hand on his stomach. "Yura," Beka says against Yuri's mouth. "If we keep kissing, I won't want to go sightseeing."

"Do you really want to?" Yuri asks. "Kiss, I mean."

Beka kisses Yuri again and touches the two buttons under the one Yuri opened himself. "I want to open these two buttons and kiss your chest. Is that okay?"

"Holy shit." Yuri fumbles the buttons once before he manages to open them. "Wait," he says as Beka leans down. Beka holds still. Yuri wriggles and ducks his head and presses an open mouth kiss to Beka's neck.

Beka shivers. "That's nice," he says. 

Yuri does it again in a different spot, then drops back down on the bed. "Okay," he says. "I just...you kissed me there earlier. I wanted to try it."

"I'm a fan," Beka says with a smile. He kisses Yuri's cheek, high up on his cheekbone, then dips his head again. He kisses Yuri's chin, his neck again, then his collarbone. He sucks lightly just below, and Yuri goes breathy.

"Nice," Yuri says.

Beka pulls Yuri's shirt to one side and kisses the skin there. He does the same to the other side. He pauses, his mouth lingering and feathery on Yuri's skin. "Will you take off your shirt?" He asks. He looks up to see Yuri's face. "I will, too."

Yuri sits up and undoes the rest of his buttons. He grumbles and swears when he his wrists get caught in his still-buttoned cuffs.

Beka chuckles quietly as he undoes his own cuffs and removes his shirt.

Yuri shakes his arms. His shirt stays put. "Beka. Help."

Beka gestures Yuri to turn so he can see his arms. "Stop moving," he says as he tries to unbutton Yuri's left cuff.

"I don't have you here much longer, Beka. I wanna make out."

Beka gets the left cuff undone. The right one is easier. "Okay," he says, pulling at the shirt so the cuffs come off Yuri's hands. 

"Thanks," Yuri says and turns to face him. He stares at Beka for a moment. "Wow."

Beka steps close so they can feel the heat of one another. "Same." He touches Yuri's pec. Yuri presses into it, and Beka trails his hand down slowly, pausing every now and again to get another nod before he keeps going. He stops at Yuri's navel, tracing the line of his abs there. 

Yuri curls his hand around the side of Beka's neck and waits for Beka to raise his head. "Come here," he says.

Beka moves forward to start the kiss. Yuri feathers his fingertips at Beka's ribs before settling his hand as wide as it will splay. He can feel Beka breathe, and he shifts them so he's lying back on the bed with Yuri on top. 

"Here," Beka says when Yuri falters when he realizes he doesn't know what to do with his legs. Beka cups the back of Yuri's right thigh and leads until Yuri is straddling him, groin pressed against Beka's lower abdomen.

"Oh," Yuri whispers. He grips one of Beka's shoulders. "Um. I."

Beka sits up, and their groins touch. He gasps and nearly loses his balance again. "Wow."

"Yeah." Yuri loops his arms around Beka's neck and keeps him close. "Have you ever...done anything...with someone else?"

"Only kissing."

"Me, too." Yuri touches the start of Beka's jaw back by his ear. "I'm kinda glad you don't know more than me."

Beka hums and tilts back his head as Yuri traces his jawline from ear-to-ear. "Me, too."

Yuri feels himself flush. Beka's hands spreading wide on his back only make it worse. "It's not a competition thing. I know I can be like that."

"I like it because we can do this together," Beka says. 

"Yeah. That." Yuri grins when Beka strains up to kiss him. Their tongues touch, and Yuri slides his into Beka's mouth to try it out. His first thought is that it's wet. But then Beka slides his tongue into Yuri's mouth, and it makes sense why people kiss like this. It's a feeling of closeness because they have to stay pressed together to make it work best. 

Beka pulls away and presses the pad of his thumb to Yuri's lower lip. "What are we doing tonight?" 

Yuri shudders at the question and tips his head back as he closes his eyes. "I don't fucking know," he says. "I want…" He shakes his head and opens his eyes. He stares at the ceiling for a moment before looking down at Beka. "I just want you here. I want to kiss you."

"You're here all day tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. We're booked to leave day after."

"Me, too." Beka presses his face against Yuri's chest and kisses just above his nipple. Yuri hums in pleasure and lightly scrapes his nails down the back of Beka's neck. "Let's stay in," Beka says. "We can get room service and watch television and do whatever."

"I like that," Yuri says. He laughs suddenly, resting his forehead on Beka's shoulder.

"What?" Beka asks. 

"We could make that vid. The bad one."

Beka laughs with him. "I thought you wanted to wait until Russian Nationals."

"I wasn't expecting my exhibition to be _such_ a thing. Now's as good as then."

Beka presses kisses to Yuri's shoulders and pulls him closer when Yuri tightens his arms around his neck. "I have to get my computer. Actually, I should probably grab all my things and get back here."

"Do that," Yuri says. He kisses Beka, open-mouthed and excited. He pulls away and beams at Beka's happily surprised look. "Beka."

"Yura." 

They look at each other for a couple of minutes. Finally, Beka shifts and picks up Yuri by his thighs. He stands and turns so Yuri stays on the bed. He kisses Yuri on the mouth, then the pec, then in the middle of his ribs. He smiles when Yuri twists and giggles at the contact. "Give me five minutes," he says.

"Okay. I can order food."

"Sounds good." Beka kisses him once more, then picks up his shirt, pulling it around his shoulders as he grabs the room key. "I'll let myself in," he says.

"Okay," Yuri agrees. He watches Beka walk out of the room and rolls his hips the moment the door closes. He feels like he's got a live wire in him. He wants to masturbate while thinking about kissing Beka. Or he wants to wait until Beka gets back and find out if he wants to do something together. He can't decide.

He grabs his phone. Katsudon had been supportive and not freaked out. He repeats that to himself as he opens his long-running message conversation with Mila.

**Yuri:** How do you suck dick?

It takes Mila a couple of minutes to answer. 

**Mila:** First, I just dumped a full flute of champagne down my tits because of this shit, so you owe me a new top.

**Mila:** Second, if you're asking, start with handjobs.

**Yuri:** What if I want to suck a dick?

**Mila:** Start with handjobs. No one goes down gracefully on anyone the first time.

**Mila:** Or consider snuggling.

**Yuri:** Hag. 

**Mila:** I'm serious, Yura. First time sex is awkward no matter what.

**Mila:** I could scar you with stories, but trust me.

**Mila:** Take a breath and think about what you want.

**Mila:** You want a dick in your mouth tonight or just to have someone close?

**Yuri:** Fuck. Okay. I get it.

**Mila:** Good. Also, nice catch. Otabek's hot as fuck.

**Yuri:** Shut up.

**Mila:** I wasn't actually sure it was Otabek. Thanks for winning me cash off Georgi.

**Yuri:** You give me shit on this, I will Tonya Harding you.

**Mila:** Like I couldn't catch you in the act.

**Mila:** Seriously, you two have a good vibe. Nice.

**Yuri:** Thanks.

Yuri puts his phone on the side table and gets out of his trousers and socks. Whatever happens, he'd prefer not to be in his suit to any degree. He sits back on the bed and calls room service, picking the three things on the late-night menu he and Beka can have and survive practice the day after next.

Beka comes back a few minutes later, his duffel and laptop bag over his shoulder. He stops short at the sight of Yuri on the bed in only his pink boxer briefs. "Oh," he says and drops his things like they mean nothing.

"Hi," Yuri says. He pulls his knees to his chest. "This isn't a full-service invitation. I just was tired of my suit."

Beka nods. He strips off his shirt and slacks, then his socks. He's wearing black boxer briefs. "We match," he says.

Yuri doesn't try to hide his smile. It widens when Beka climbs on the bed next to him and shoves at him until he gets the blankets pulled down. "I called room service."

"Cool." Beka covers them both, then reaches for Yuri. "Can I...what's the Russian word? The thing for eating soup."

"Spoon," Yuri says. "You forgot spoon?"

"Yeah," Beka replies. "So, can I spoon you?"

Yuri responds by scooting back towards Beka. Beka wraps an arm around his middle and presses kisses to the back of Yuri's neck. "Ah!" Yuri yelps when Beka hits a sensitive spot on the top of his spine.

"Sorry," Beka says. He reaches up with his free hand and pulls out the hair tie holding Yuri's braid. He undoes the braid one plait at a time, making sure there are no knots as he goes. The careful combing makes Yuri feel shivery, and he holds onto the arm Beka has around his waist. When Yuri's hair is fully loose again, Beka presses his nose into it and kisses the back of Yuri's head. 

"Sap," Yuri murmurs, but he makes no move to get away.

Beka replies by breathing in deep, then kissing his head again as he pulls him even closer.

Yuri can feel Beka's erection against his back, but he can also tell by the way Beka's holding him that it's not the reason Beka pulled him in. He laces their fingers together. He pulls Beka's arm tighter and turns his head so they can kiss again. The angle makes his neck hurt, but he likes the way it feels, off-center and a little harder than before. 

They lie in silence, shifting now and again. When room service shows up, Yuri throws on the hotel robe so he can hide his half-hard dick. He takes the trolley from the busboy at the door and signs an extra-large tip on the receipt. 

"Want to start on the terrible video?" Beka asks. "I've got all your horrible faces on my computer."

"Sure." Yuri grins as he lifts the lids off the trays. There's a selection of fresh fruit, a vegetable tray, and a giant peanut butter cup. 

"I'm pretty sure that's not on the approved diet list," Beka says, eying the peanut butter cup with appreciation.

"It's full of peanut butter," Yuri replies. "Protein."

Beka chuckles and accepts a bottle of water when Yuri holds it out. "Good enough." He turns to his backpack and pulls out his laptop and the cord. He settles on the bed, laptop on his legs, and opens a file folder labeled 'FACES.'

Yuri sits next to him, the fruit plate on his own lap. He eats a strawberry and points to a picture in the second row. "That's a good one."

Beka clicks and drags it to a folder named 'VID.' "How bad do we want this to be?"

"The worst. Did you watch the one I sent you with all the glitter sparkles in it?"

"That's definitely bad," Beka says. He opens his browser and does a search. "Do you want the glitter sparkles? I can get a template."

Yuri considers it. "Maybe. Let's get the pieces together and decide after."

"Okay."

They take turn choosing pictures until Beka says they have enough to start placing them to the music. He opens a program Yuri doesn't recognize. "It's video editing software," Beka says at Yuri's look.

"Do you make videos?"

"I take video at clubs sometimes and cut them with my songs."

"How do you get video if you're DJ-ing?"

"I've got a drone. I'll get a long song going and run it over the room."

"What?! You never told me! Can I see a video?"

Beka shrugs and opens a file. "Sure. They're nothing great, just a good promotional tool."

Yuri leans against him to watch. It's all from above, like Beka said, but it's cut together in a way that Yuri feels like he's looking at a story. The drone will hover sometimes, or someone will look up, and the shot will slow so Yuri can make out the details on the person's face. "This is really good!"

"Thanks. It's coming along." Beka closes the video and goes back to their project. "I can send you the links to all my DJ stuff if you want."

"I won't follow you right away. The Angels are super intense about noticing when I've followed someone. They might put together it's you."

Beka sighs deeply. "I don't even want to know what my fans would do."

"You haven't mentioned them since Alina took them on. Have things been okay?"

"It's been quiet. You were right about them splitting into factions. The particularly...intense--"

"Fucking crazy."

"--ones have started their own forum. Alina's joined that, too. I told her not to, but she told me to mind my own business."

Yuri laughs. "I cannot wait to meet her."

"She really wants to meet you, too. She says I talk about you a lot."

Yuri curls even closer, not caring how sappy it is. "I talk about you a lot, too."

Beka presses a kiss to his head. "I'm glad."

Yuri rubs his nose against Beka's shoulder. "Yeah, me too."

*

They spend the next three hours arguing over which pictures should pop up at what points in the song and demolishing the rest of the food. Yuri texts Mila a few terrible in-progress videos he records on his phone, and she sends back encouragement and an astounding knowledge of ugly fonts.

"It's not quite right," Beka says as they watch a rough cut. They still need to place a few more pictures. "It needs…" He navigates to his browser and types 'Yuri Plisetsky Viktor Shirt' into Google Images. 

"What are you looking for?"

"The biggest watermark," Beka says. "And the lowest resolution."

"Fuck, that's perfect." Yuri gives into impulse and gives Beka an intentionally sloppy kiss on the cheek. Beka chuckles and wipes his cheek on his shoulder. Yuri kisses his shoulder, more of a single trail of his mouth tracing the curve than actual kisses. Beka hums approval as he saves an image from his search and clicks back over to the editing software.

Yuri experiments with kissing Beka behind his ear, then down the column of his neck around to the top of his spine. Beka squirms and sighs but keeps working on the video, only losing concentration once when Yuri sucks lightly on his neck. "Got you," Yuri says.

Beka puts the laptop on the end of the bed and turns so he and Yuri are facing each other. "Think it's finished," he says. He tilts his head back when Yuri gets on his knees and leans down to kiss him. He holds Yuri's face between his hands and sucks in a breath when Yuri climbs on his lap. "Yura…"

Yuri can't speak. Their dicks are pressing together through their underwear, and Yuri is trying to handle the way it feels. He feels prickly all over, shivers starting up his spine. When Beka trails his fingers down his back, Yuri groans and presses down. 

Beka hisses in return and grabs Yuri around the ribs. "Are we…Yura, this feels so good."

"Yeah, it does." Yuri loops his arms around Beka's neck and looks down at him. He feels wild, like he could do absolutely anything and get away with it. "Do you want to? I mean, this. Like this."

Beka breathes out slowly, his hands flexing around Yuri's torso. "I think...one of us should say it." His breath is shuddery as he breathes in. "I want to have sex with you."

Yuri shifts his weight so he can really grind against Beka. They both moan and lose their breath. "Let's have sex," Yuri says against Beka's ear. "Just like this. If you--"

"This is good," Beka says. He arches up, and his hands slip down to the waistband of Yuri's underwear. He makes no move to take them off, tracing the waistband for a few seconds before he drops his hands to Yuri's thighs and pulls him in tighter.

Yuri kisses Beka hard and messy. Beka returns it. It's uncoordinated and they click their teeth together a few times, but they don't pull away from each other as they continue to rub off on one another. It doesn't take long before they come--Beka first, whining in the back of his throat, and Yuri shortly behind, throwing back his head and hissing when Beka mouths at his neck. 

They hold onto each other after, Yuri maneuvering them so they're laying down. He kisses Beka's collarbone and giggles when Beka runs his fingers down his ribs. "Stop," he says, and Beka does, but his hands stay against his sides. 

"Are you ticklish in general?" Beka asks. His voice is very quiet and content. He happily arranges his legs so one of Yuri's is trapped between his. 

"No," Yuri says. He tries to tickle Beka, but Beka doesn't react. "Unfair."

"I promise I won't abuse what I know."

Yuri looks at Beka and grins. "It was good, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." Beka smiles when Yuri kisses him. "My underwear are gross," he says, and he laughs along with Yuri when Yuri nods in agreement.

"We could take a shower," Yuri offers. "We've seen each other naked."

"Sure," Beka says. He wriggles when Yuri presses in close for a few seconds before pulling away again. "Tease."

"Hey, I just put out!"

Beka laughs and takes the light swat Yuri aims for his bicep. "Get the water started," he says. "I'm gonna set the video to render."

Yuri gets out of bed and walks to the bathroom. He starts the water running before taking off his underwear and dropping them in the sink. He'll rinse them after and hang them to dry. The water warms up, so he pops the knob to start the shower and steps in. He stands under the water and considers what he just did.

He had sex.

Sex.

With Beka. 

He laughs without meaning to, then giggles, then shivers at the memory. He's so used to feeling his body, but not like this. His clinical understanding of when to push a stretch, when to stop trying a new jump, when to trust his bruising isn't hiding a strain or a stress fracture, it's nothing like what he's feeling now, like his body is lit softly from inside and ready to flare to brilliance again at Beka's lightest touch.

"Hey," Beka calls as he walks into the bathroom. "Sure it's hot enough in there?"

Yuri rolls his eyes. He likes his showers hot as hell, and he refuses to apologize. "You don't like it, you can wait your turn."

Beka steps into the shower and holds a hand up to the spray. "No, that's about right."

Yuri pulls him under the water and laughs at the way Beka's hair flattens. "What took you so long?"

"I wanted to make sure the video was going to render as half-assed as possible. I had to look up the ratios to make sure it looked incompetent but still totally visible." Beka pushes his hair off his face, then reaches out and does the same for Yuri. 

They look at each other for a few seconds, then Yuri reaches for the body wash and pours a small mountain of it into his hand. He hands the bottle to Beka, who does the same. Yuri's halfway done soaping himself when he looks over at Beka. They've showered together a few times in the locker room, and he doesn't think anything about looking over. But looking at Beka as he lathers up his biceps then tips his head back to do the same to his neck and chest is very different when they're sharing the same showerhead and have just had sex.

Beka meets Yuri's eyes, then gives Yuri a once-over. By the time he meets Yuri's eyes again, he looks as surprisingly wrecked as Yuri feels. "Um."

Yuri cups himself without thinking. His dick is half-hard, and he's breathless. "Um," he replies back. "So."

"I had a rinkmate strain her hip having shower sex," Beka says. He runs his fingers down the line of hair under his navel and hesitates above his own dick. "But, um, she and her boyfriend were being really acrobatic."

"We could…" Yuri slides his hand down his own dick and grips it at the base. "We could show each other, you know, how we…"

Beka mirrors Yuri's pose. "Yeah," he agrees. He strokes himself once, then pauses, waiting for Yuri to do the same. Yuri does and keeps going. So does Beka.

Yuri feels nervous the first few strokes, but it dissipates as he continues to jerk himself off and sees the way Beka's face goes slack as he twists at the top of his stroke. Yuri tries it himself and--oh--oh. 

Their breathing syncs, and the rough panting gets so loud it covers the sound of the shower. Yuri comes first, planting his free hand on the shower wall to hold himself up as he comes. When Yuri looks at Beka as his breathing slows down, Beka is staring at him like he's the answer to everything. His hand is moving faster, his grip tighter. He shouts when he comes, and Yuri steps up to kiss him without thinking. Some of Beka's jizz ends up smeared across Yuri's stomach, and Yuri laughs when Beka mumbles an apology and steers them back under the spray. 

They rinse off, get out of the shower, and dry themselves. They change into pajamas and settle back on the bed. Yuri gets to work carefully squeezing the water from his hair in individual locks. When he gets to the back, Beka takes the towel and copies his movements. "Thanks," Yuri says.

"Do you want me to braid it again? It'll be wavy when you take it down if you keep it up overnight."

"Nah. I hate sleeping with it up."

Beka finishes drying the back and hands Yuri the towel so he can take care of the other side. "We've got twenty minutes until the video finishes rendering, and then uploading to YouTube will take another ten or fifteen minutes. Want to watch something?"

"Sure," Yuri replies. "Whatever."

Beka channel surfs while Yuri finishes drying his hair. He finger-combs it to make sure there are no major tangles. He plumps up the pillows against the headboard and lies down with his shoulders and head against them. Beka picks a movie that looks to be about half over and lies down next to Yuri before turning and curling against his side, his head on Yuri's chest. 

"This okay?" Beka asks.

"Yeah, you're warm," Yuri says. He puts an arm around Beka and gives him a one-armed hug. Beka returns it with an arm around his ribs. 

Beka starts the upload when the video finishes rendering and then resumes his previous spot along Yuri's side. The movie is boring, and Yuri dozes off, only brought back awake by Beka pulling away to click "publish" on the video and move his laptop off the bed.

"You're letting cold air in," Yuri mumbles in complaint as Beka lifts the comforter so it covers them both to the shoulders. Yuri reaches behind himself and pulls his pillows down flat so he won't wake up with a crick in his neck. Beka curls around him again, sharing half the pillow. 

"You're Russian. You'll survive," Beka replies. He laughs sleepily against Yuri's neck when Yuri gives him a half-hearted kick. "Go to sleep, Yura."

"Good night, Beka."

*

When they wake up at nine the next morning, the video has three thousand hits. The comments section is an absolute mess of people fighting between giving constructive criticism and calling it absolute garbage.

"They are _really_ unhappy with my remix," Beka says as he scrolls through comments. 

"It's actually a really good remix," Yuri replies as he throws on his hoodie. "Come on. Breakfast."

They go down to the hotel restaurant and end up at a huge table with Leo, Seung-gil, Phichit, and Guang Hong, along with Mila and Georgi and Viktor and Yuuri. Yuri immediately takes out his phone and shows Mila the video. She howls with laughter.

"Forget what I said about a new top. This pays for everything." She beams at Otabek. "This is fantastic."

"Thank you," Beka replies. 

"What is it?" Georgi asks, and Mila tries to pass Yuri's phone over, but Yuri grabs it from her hands. "Use your own, hag."

She rolls her eyes but pulls out her own phone, explaining that he _has_ to watch the train wreck Yuri and Beka have put together. Her phone ends up going around the table. Mila gets more excited each time she explains what they're watching. Yuri and Beka keep to themselves, digging into their breakfasts and nodding thanks when everyone laughs and tells them it's an amazing gag.

Viktor watches it with a sharp smile on his face, one Yuri's seen for a long time. He's worn it a lot when looking at Yuri skate, and Yuri realizes, suddenly, that Viktor is proud of him for doing this dumb video, for controlling his own life. For doing, Yuri thinks, what Viktor kept himself from doing for a long time.

"We should tell them," Yuri says, looking around the table. "If you want."

"About us being together?" Beka asks. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Yuri says. "Maybe not all at once, but yeah. I mean, well, Mila already knows, and so do Katsudon and Viktor, but the others, I feel like we can trust them to shut the fuck up until we say so, you know?"

"Yes," Beka agrees. He pulls his phone out of his pocket when it pings. "Oh, no," he breathes. He turns his phone so Yuri can see it. 

**Alina:** Like I wouldn't know that remix better than you.

There's a photo attached. It's a forum for the OtaCubs. A user named "OtabeksSecretFave" has posted the video in a new discussion and is passionately defending it as a work of genius. The replies are, at minimum, unkind.

"She's murdering them," Yuri mumbles in awe. "Holy shit."

Another picture comes through. This one from an Angels forum. The user posting the video this time is "IcallhimYura." The user is deriding the video for being so unoriginal in its attempt to piss people off and it seems such a statement is definitely sending the Angels in the thread into a tizzy. 

"Fuck," Yuri says. 

"I didn't know she was trolling your forums, too," Beka says like an apology.

"Tell her she can totally call me Yura. Hell, she can call me whatever she wants if she keeps this up. This is the best thing to happen to me because of a fan since I got on your bike at GPF."

Beka looks at Yuri, a small smile on his face. He doesn't kiss him, but he reaches out and takes Yuri's hand. Yuri squeezes as he threads their fingers together. 

*

A few weeks later, final spots in the GPF competitions get confirmed.

**Leo:** YES! Skate America! Nice to be able to read street signs for once.

**Seung-gil:** I sent you those tutorials.

**Leo:** I'm using them! Just, I don't have to think-think, you know?"

**Phichit:** Ugh. I have to get skating popular in Thailand. I HATE reading street signs.

**Yuri:** I'm gonna be at SA too. Be prepared to be destroyed, L.

**Phichit:** I'm missing SA.

**Guang Hong:** Same. I'll be at Cup of China, though.

**Seung-gil:** I'll also be at CoC. 

**Otabek:** I'm at SA. Just got the confirmation.

**Yuri:** BEKA!! YOU DIDN'T TEXT ME FIRST!!

**Phichit:** Oooh, best friend foul!

**Leo:** Ten yards!

**Seung-gil:** What?

**Guang Hong:** Huh?

**Phichit:** Football. I get it.

**Seung-gil:** You don't get set back yards in football.

**Leo:** AMERICAN FOOTBALL. UGH YOU PEOPLE.

**Yuri:** IT'S NOT A BEST FRIEND FOUL ASSHOLES. IT’S A BOYFRIEND FOUL.

**Phichit:** Wait. What.

**Leo:** WHAT.

**Otabek:** When you said you wanted to tell them, I thought you meant in person and not calling them assholes.

**Guang Hong:** Nice.

**Seung-gil:** We're not double-dating with you.

**Leo:** TWENTY YARDS

**Yuri:** BEKA DO YOU EVEN KNOW ME. 

*

**Beka:** It was inelegant, but the guys are glad to know, it looks like.

**Yuri:** Yeah. Be lucky you didn't see me tell Georgi today. He cried.

**Yuri:** Like, ugly-cried.

**Beka:** Are you sure he's okay?

**Yuri:** He's in love again and SO HAPPY FOR ME AND VOMIT.

**Beka:** Ha!

**Yura:** Did you tell your family? 

**Beka:** Alina screamed so loud I thought my parents were going to faint.

**Beka:** They were happy with the news besides that.

**Beka:** Alina is currently demanding to go to SA to meet you.

**Beka:** My parents want to come as well.

**Yura:** Fuck. Sure. Why not?

**Beka:** You're sure?

**Yura:** Maybe I can convince Grandpa, and everyone can meet at once.

**Beka:** That'd be nice.

*

"You want me to go to America?" Grandpa asks when Yuri visits to tell him about the plan.

"Yeah. Beka's whole family is going to come, and I we want everyone to meet."

Grandpa gives Yuri a soft look. "This boy is very special to you."

Yuri scratches his thumbnail against the table and avoids Grandpa's eyes. "I mean, I told you we're...more than friends."

"When I was young, we would have said 'boyfriend'." Grandpa's smile is teasing, but his gaze is still soft. He chuckles when Yuri scrunches up his face. "But you young people make up words all the time."

Yuri looks up and meets Grandpa's teasing smile with a scowl and a huff. "Does that mean you'll come?"

Grandpa thinks for a moment. "It is a lot of money to fly to America."

"It is," Yuri agrees. He's already been looking at tickets, especially in First Class to make sure Grandpa's back would be okay when he arrived. "But we both know we could fly you to every competition I'm in during a season and barely make a dent in what we have in the bank."

"I do not want you to be frivolous with your money, Yura." 

Yuri sighs. "I'm not saying you _should_ go to every event. I know you prefer to stay home. I just want you for this one. I want you to meet them."

Grandpa taps his knuckles against the table and nods. "Okay, then I will go."

Yuri beams and jumps up to run around the table and hug Grandpa. "Yes! It's gonna be great! You'll have so much fun!"

Grandpa laughed and returned the hug. "If my Yura is happy, so am I."

*

**Yuri:** Grandpa's in! Wish I could fly with him, but he knows how to get around.

**Beka:** When does he get in?

**Yuri:** 15:30 local time, two days before. I'm getting in that evening.

**Beka:** Alina and my parents get in at 14:00. I'm sure they'd be happy to meet him at his baggage claim.

**Yuri:** Yeah? That would be great. 

**Beka:** Send me a pic. I'll check with them.

*

**Unknown number:** GOT HIM!

Yuri opens the message and finds a slightly blurry selfie of Alina standing next to his grandpa. Alina's grin is huge. Grandpa looks quietly pleased. He's the one holding the phone, and realizing that makes Yuri grin even wider.

**Yuri:** Thanks! Owe you one. 

He saves the number just before the reply comes in. 

**Alina** : Five signed photos I can sell on ebay.

Yuri laughs, screencaps the conversation, and sends it to Beka.

**Yuri:** Can you adopt a sibling?

**Beka:** I don't know that you two should have each other's numbers. 

*

Yuri, bleary-eyed and moving on autopilot, knocks on Grandpa's door, hugs him, then stumbles down the hall to his own room. He throws his gear bag on the extra bed, and barely manages to strip down to his boxer briefs before he collapses on the bed. 

**Yuri:** Fuck delays.

He plugs his phone in and falls asleep instantly. 

A knock louder than anything Yuri is pretty sure he's ever heard wakes him up seven hours later. He pulls the comforter around his shoulders and stumbles to the door. He yanks it open, expecting Viktor or Yakov. Instead, it's Beka and Alina, and Beka's parents, and his grandpa.

"We're going to breakfast," Alina says in Russian. "Put on pants."

"Alina!" says Mrs. Altin. Mr. Altin coughs into his hand but is clearly hiding a laugh.

"We will meet you downstairs," Grandpa says, trying to hold back his smile. 

"I'll stay," Beka says. "Someone has to untangle his hair."

Yuri just manages no to tell everyone to go fuck themselves. "Downstairs," he says.

"Yes," Grandpa replies. "No need to rush." He shepards everyone else away. 

Yuri closes the door and yawns hugely. When he looks over, Beka is grinning at him. "Fuck you," Yuri says.

"Where's your dry shampoo?" Beka asks. 

Yuri drops the comforter and pulls his toiletries bag from his larger duffel. He also pulls out jeans, a purple-striped t-shirt, and a jacket with tiger-striped patches. He pulls them all on, then drops hard on the edge of the bed, yawning again as Beka pulls his hair free from the elastic band and spritzes it with the dry shampoo.

"Thanks," Yuri murmurs."

Beka presses a kiss to the top of his head and quickly finger combs, then braids Yuri's hair. "Brush your teeth, and we can get down there."

Yuri does as ordered. When he comes out of the bathroom, Beka hands him his phone, and Yuri checks his texts. There's one from Yakov, reminding him of that afternoon's practice, and a few in the group chat. "You didn't text me back last night," Yuri says, holding up his phone to show Beka the message.

"I didn't see it until a little later. I figured you were asleep." Beka presses the button for the elevator.

"I was," Yuri says. He rubs a hand over his eyes. When he looks at Beka again, Beka's watching him with a small smile. "What?"

"You're soft like this," Beka says. They get on the elevator. They're the only ones on it. Beka leans down and kisses Yuri on the mouth. Yuri gives a little yelp of surprise but grabs Beka by his shirt before he can back off. The kiss is quick. When Beka backs away, Yuri drops his hand but lets it brush against Beka's. "I can reply if you want me to. Even if I think you're asleep."

"You don't have to," Yuri says. "But, I mean, yeah. I'd be okay with it."

Mr. and Mrs. Altin, Alina, and Grandpa are all standing off to one side in the lobby. The adults are talking amongst themselves. Alina is on her phone. "Where are we eating?" Yuri asks as he and Beka approach.Yuri walks straight to his grandpa and hugs him. 

"Alina thinks she's found a place," Mr. Altin says. 

"Mom, Dad, this is Yuri," Beka says. "Beka, these are my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Altin, and Alina's already texted you." 

"It's nice to meet you," Yuri says, shaking Beka's parents' hands. Alina holds a hand up for a high five, and Yuri obligies. "I guess I don't have to introduce you to be my grandpa, but thanks again for picking him up."

"It was our pleasure," Mr. Altin says.

"Did you really lose a fight with a rooster?" Alina asks. "Your grandpa says you lost a fight with a rooster."

Yuri groans. "Yes, but I refuse to tell that story from my perspective until I have food in front of me."

"This way!" Alina says, and moves to the front of their little crowd.

"She's like this at home, too," Beka tells Yuri in an undertone. 

Yuri grins. "I am not surprised."

Alina leads them to a restaurant a few blocks away, but drops back to let her parents handle requesting a table. 

"We didn't get lost once," Yuri says. "She's a better navigator than Leo."

Beka unlocks his phone. "I'm putting that in the group chat."

"I should be in the group chat," Alina says, coming up beside them. "Beka won't let me," she says, giving Yuri a long-suffering look.

Yuri thinks of the amount of swearing and dick jokes in the group chat. "We're not cool enough for you," he says.

Alina beams and turns away. Grandpa touches Yuri's shoulder and gives him a smile. "And what about me?"

"We're not polite enough for you," Yuri says. 

Grandpa chuckles and pulls Yuri into a one-armed hug. "Oh, my Yura, I am so glad you've made friends." He claps Beka on the shoulder, and Beka looks up with a polite expression. "I am so glad you boys found each other. You have brought out something new in my grandson."

Beka looks flabbergasted. "Thanks," he manages to say. 

"We've got a table," Mrs. Altin says, and they all follow the hostess to a round table near the back of the room. 

Yuri spots a group of teenage girls in cat ears watching with rapt attention from four tables over. "Shit," he mutters.

"What is it?" Beka asks, and even though they're not touching, they're standing close enough Yuri can feel him tense. 

"Angels," Yuri grits out.

Beka spots them, then immediately turns back to Yuri. "They're not moving. That's something."

"We'll see."

They sit and everyone except Alina orders coffee. Mr. and Mrs. Altin easily carry the conversation, and Yuri is grateful. Grandpa is a quiet man who'd rather respond than speak first, and Yuri doesn't know how to talk to someone's parents. He's glad to just answer their questions. He tells them about Potya and his ballet lessons. Unlike Katsuki's parents, the Altins are up on their skating research, and Yuri is happy to talk about technical points and the different ways he knows to get performance points. 

"Do you know JJ Leroy?" Mr. Altin asks near the end of the meal. "He and Otabek trained together in Canada."

Yuri has to literally bite his tongue to not immediately call JJ a douche. "We don't hang out," Yuri says after a moment, and he sees his grandpa smile proudly at his restraint. Grandpa is more than aware about his feelings on the matter. "Beka should have gotten bronze at GPF."

"Yura," Beka mutters and drops his head into his hands. 

"Yes!" says Mrs. Altin with a burst of force Yuri didn't expect of her. "I have been saying the same, and he--" she points her butter knife emphatically at Otabek, "--keeps insisting I am being unfair."

"JJ's skate was worth many points, and he recovered well," Mr. Altin says.

"I liked his music better," Alina adds.

"He won," Beka says before the conversation can go further. "I can't change that. He's a good competitor. It's not a big deal."

Mrs. Altin gives Yuri a melodramatic, long-suffering look that reminds him of Viktor. "Do you argue with him when he says these things?"

"Absolutely," Yuri replies.

Mrs. Altin laughs. "Fine. Then I will stop." She gives Beka a look full of warmth. "I do not mean to carry on about it. I am just very proud of you."

"I know," Beka says. He returns his mother's smile and drops his arm casually so it's along the back of Yuri's chair. Yuri wants to lean into him but remembers the Angels a few tables over. 

The conversation turns away from skating to Grandpa and the elder Altins arguing over who will pay the bill. While Mr. Altin and Grandpa both try to convince the server which of them will actually pay, Alina leans over and shows Yuri and Beka her phone. 

"The creepers over there have you all over tumblr," she says quietly. "And instagram. And you do not want to see what's on twitter."

"Give me that," Beka says and takes her phone. "Lean in," he says, and Yuri and Alina both crowd the camera, and Beka snaps three photos. "Put that on instagram," he says to Alina, handing her phone back over. "I trust you know what you're doing."

She beams and opens the app. A few seconds later, Yuri's phone pings, and he checks what she's done. 

**otabek-altin** : Family and friends breakfast w/ @yuri-plisetsky and my secret photographer. Fight me. #otabekaltin #yuriplisetsky #bestlittlesister #omgeggwhiteomlettesaresoboring #weseeyoucreeping

"Why am I fighting anyone?" Beka asks.

"It's funny," Alina replies.

Beka looks at Yuri. Yuri shrugs. "She's your secret photographer."

*

What they're saying on Instagram and Twitter, Yuri discovers after afternoon practice, is that he and Beka are _clearly_ boyfriends. "Ew," he mutters.

"What's up?" Mila aks. They're having a late lunch before Yuri meets his grandpa for some sight-seeing.

Yuri turns the phone towards her. "We haven't even touched in public," he says quietly. 

Mila scrolls through a few posts, then pushes Yuri's phone back towards him. "It happens," she says. "It fucking sucks, but it happens."

Yuri remembers saying something similar to Beka when Beka's fangirls had first gone crazy. It makes him feel a little better, though he can't say why. "If they bug me, you'll throw them off a bridge?"

"With glee."

*

Yuri takes gold. Beka gets bronze. Leo gets silver and is over the moon to have medaled on home soil. Yuri and Beka both give him a hearty backslap. 

"Breakfast tomorrow?" Leo asks as they step off the podium. "A bunch of us are going."

"Sure," Yuri says before Beka can answer. "My Grandpa wants to sleep in, so I'm open."

"Me, too," Beka answers. "I'm doing some sightseeing with my family in the afternoon before the exhibition, but breakfast is wide open."

"Great! I'll text everyone." Leo practically runs to the throng of interviewers, shouting in victory as soon as he's close to the microphones."

"Davai," Beka murmurs as he breaks off to handle his own interviews.

"Davai," Yuri replies. He holds up his gold medal towards the reporters, and the cameras go off in a mad, clicking whirl as he approaches. 

The questions are routine. How does he feel about the win? What about his next event? What does he think of the others who placed? When Yakov holds up a hand and announces that Yuri will only take a few more questions, someone from the back of the group shoulders forward and shoves a digital recorder directly under Yuri's chin.

"There are rumors circulating that your surprising friendship with Kazakhstan's Otabek Altin is more than just friendship. Comment?"

Yakov immediately starts to sputter, but Yuri talks over him. "What's surprising about it? He's a good person and a great skater. Also, what sort of creep asks a 16-year-old if he's dating someone? How is that your business? You're a sports reporter!"

"We're finished," Yakov says, pulling Yuri away before he can go on. "You know that will only make them ask more questions."

"Yeah, but they won't ask me."

Yakov huffs in a way that tells Yuri he agrees but doesn't want to say so. When they get into the locker room, Beka is there with his coach. 

"We saw you also got the question," Beka's coach says. He gives Beka a quick look. "I was made aware a few weeks ago--

"I know," Yakov interrupts. "I see no reason it can't happen."

"I was worried it might affect Otabek's performance, but it clearly hasn't." Beka's coach holds out his hand, and he and Yakov shake like they've made a deal.

"Try for discretion," Yakov tells them both. "No more instagrams on statues."

"We weren't even dating then," Yuri replies. He manages to keep a straight face until both coaches leave he and Beka to change.

"We kissed the first time like four hours later," Beka says once they're alone.

"So, I wasn't lying," Yuri replies. He sits on the bench and pats the spot next to him. Beka sits down, and Yuri leans over to kiss him. "Congratulations," Yuri says. 

"You, too," Beka replies. 

*

A particularly brave reporter catches Viktor as he exits the hotel the next morning, hand-in-hand with Yuuri. "There's some speculation that your protégé is having his own love affair on the ice. Do you have any comment?"

"Yuuri!" Viktor exclaims as Beka and Yuri sneak out around them, "Who else are you having a love affair with?"

"So many people," Yuuri says, deadpan. "But I'm not your protégé."

"Mila!" Viktor shouts, drawing her over with a flashy wave of his arm that all the reporters track as Beka and Yuri get folded into their group of friends and whisked away without being noticed. "Who are you having a love affair with?"

"My right hand," Mila replies in Russian, and Viktor and Yuuri laugh so hard they nearly fall over. 

"I'm glad they're our friends," Beka says as they get safely around the corner and headed towards a breakfast place Leo swears is amazing and also full of baseball fans who don't know figure skating from a hole in the ground (an idiom Seung-gil is complaining about while holding tightly to Leo's hand, much to everyone else's amusement). 

"Yeah, they're not terrible," Yuri agrees. He pulls a small, red crocheted heart from his pocket. He made it last night after he'd had dinner with his grandpa and called it an early night. He's attached a safety pin to the back. "Here," he says.

Beka attaches the heart to his lapel and smoothes it. "Thank you."

"Yeah."

"I have a new remix I want you to listen to. I was playing with this song with a lot of brass, and I think it's interesting."

"Definitely wanna hear it," Yuri agrees. 

"Come on, slowpokes! I'm starving!" Leo calls.

Yuri's ready to tell him to fuck off, they're not so far behind, when Viktor and Yuuri jog up to them, obviously catching up. "So, who's your protégé, old man?" he asks as they file into the breakfast place.

Viktor beams at him. "I have no idea."

Yuri laughs, and Beka slings an arm around his shoulders, and Yuri feels warm and happy and _loved_. He leans against Beka. "Thanks."

"What for?"

"Wanting to be friends." He doesn't feel like a loser or a sap when he says it. He just feels _good_. 

"Thanks for agreeing," Beka says, and they crowd around the table as Mila and Georgi rush in, and Yuri feels like he's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been reading and commenting and kudoing. It's been a delight to see you all take to this fic, and I hope you've found it a good read.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the squad for beta (hugealienpie and templemarker) and constant cheerleading (the_wordbutler). A girl couldn't ask for better friends to write super long stories about people kissing.


End file.
